


Earthly Heavens

by hoboheartache



Series: Earthly Heavens [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Blood Magic, Catholic Character, Catholicism, Dark Hermione Granger, Demonic Possession, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, I can't emphasize enough how little pedophelia is in this fic, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot, Slytherin Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, diary tom x rosa but only once she's in maybe.., idk fourth year?, ooc draco malfoy, the age gap is 4 years at the most
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 95,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoboheartache/pseuds/hoboheartache
Summary: Rosa Potter was known on Privet Drive as being an inquisitive little child, large circular glasses making her already big curious eyes even bigger. Her aunt always called her ‘bug eyed’ and ‘owly’, which she knew was meant to be an insult but found rather cute instead, and took to the garden to hunt down bugs that might resemble her. The girl was always covered in mud because of that, wandering around the neighborhood with dirty hands and feet and face, her long wild hair attributing her to a savage deposition. The neighbors considered her a pest, half crazed as she army crawled through rose bushes and scaled fences in her effort to explore every possible nook and cranny.When she was eight years old, only three months from her birthday, Rosa Potter disappeared without a trace.
Relationships: (Future) Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, (future) Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Earthly Heavens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191707
Comments: 269
Kudos: 671





	1. A Savage Little Beast and an Unholy Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Savage little girls don't get to sleep inside the house.  
> Nor do they particularly want to.

Rosa Potter was known on Privet Drive as being an inquisitive little child, large circular glasses making her already big curious eyes even bigger. Her aunt always called her ‘bug eyed’ and ‘owly’, which she knew was meant to be an insult but found rather cute instead, and took to the garden to hunt down bugs that might resemble her. The girl was always covered in mud because of that, wandering around the neighborhood with dirty hands and feet and face, her long wild hair attributing her to a savage deposition. The neighbors considered her a pest, half crazed as she army crawled through rose bushes and scaled fences in her effort to explore every possible nook and cranny.

Rosa considered herself a savage as well, and likened her explorations to that of famous explorers that went off and found new lands-like Lewis and Clark or Christopher Columbus or Marco Polo, lumbering through the wilderness and discovering new, exciting things. Her aunt didn't seem to like her explorations though, and often told her that she would never gain anything in her already pointless existence by getting all muddy and disgusting out in the dirt. Rosa didn't let that bother her though, and continued to wander off into the woods, running and jumping and living all she liked-regardless of if she would gain anything from it.

She did gain quite a few things from it though, a considerable tan being the first. The girl was quite limber as well, and could easily outrun any of the neighborhood boys in a pinch. Considering that when she turned eight her cousin started up a game of tag he called ‘Rosa Racing’, where him and his friend would take turns to try and catch her, it was a good thing that she was so fast. The considerably bigger boys would huff and puff as she danced circles around them-and Rosa was proud to say that she had never been caught once.

As she got older, Rosa became more inclined to scale trees in the patch of woods behind her house than crawl through the mud, already feeling bothered that she was getting bullied by the other girls at school for wearing her cousins hand-me-downs. One girl named Jessica had been insistent on making her life miserable, calling her ‘mud-lover’ and ‘nasty tomboy’, so Rosa became more self conscious about the mud and oversized clothes. It didn't help that she had such a nasty looking scar racing down her face-it was left over from the car crash that killed her parents-and had the shape of a lightning bolt ripping through her skin, starting at the dead center of her forehead and sending bolts down through her nose, tapering off right through her top lip. It was a deep scar, and indenting a steady line into her skin, she could trace its journey down her face easily in the dead of night if she wished. 

She liked hiding up in the trees, and occasionally (when she was feeling bold enough) Rosa would trapeze through the branches, jumping from branch to branch like an acrobat-or a monkey. She loved it up there, and in the mud (though the mud would get her laughed at more than the thick calluses on her palms would, so it became less and less appealing). Her love of the forest only grew when she had found a book about edible berries and nuts in her school's library while she had been hiding from Jessica and her gang. Rosa knew that stealing was wrong, but she took that book anyway and studied it under the cover of darkness, a small torch as a guide to see the pictures and descriptions. The next day she had set out into the woods and found a few wild strawberry plants and elderberries to munch on, and her constantly hungry belly was momentarily satisfied. 

Her stealing exploits didn’t end with nature books however, and Rosa found herself carefully sneaking out of her cupboard in the dead of night to nab a few snacks whose absence would go unnoticed by the rest of the household. She felt guilty at first, not wanting to upset her family, but that guilt quickly grew into excitement as she got better at the whole stealing business. Before she knew it, Rosa was nabbing an extra sandwich at the canteen, or a rich-looking man’s wallet on the walk home from school, or a candy bar from the drug store on the corner. She got quite good at pickpocketing especially, and gathered all her stolen money up to save and hoard for a day that it would all be needed.

Rosa always dreamed of wandering off into the woods and disappearing from the world. She had read of other dimensions and fantastical places, and wished more than anything that she could escape the dull life she lived to go explore one of those fantastical worlds.

She was nearly nine when it happened, when that special day came. Rosa was out in the forest again, in a grove of trees she slept in often. The grove was more of a clearing between four large great oaks really, arranged in an almost perfect square-one tree at each point separated by about twelve feet of space. The large open area in the square was void of anything but unnaturally green grass, which Rosa often used as bedding. It was by far her favorite place to sleep, and she always woke to a small gathering of delicious berries sitting on a leaf next to her head each morning. Rosa never questioned who was leaving the berries, not really caring one way or another, but they seemed to want to say ‘hello’ that special day.

She hadn't slept in the grove for a few days-her aunt having grown worried that someone would find her out in the wilderness and call child services-so she had been forced to stay in the cramped cupboard instead. Rosa had come out to the forest as soon as she could though, flaking off on the weekend chores her aunt had assigned, knowing that she rarely did them anyway (Rosa was a savage little girl afterall, Petunia wouldn't want her tracking mud in the house).

Arriving at the grove, Rosa was shocked still by the sight of a strange cluster of lights in her grove. Moving closer inwards, the girl gasped as one of the lights zipped up to her and landed firmly on her nose.

“Hello!” 

Rosa gasped again as a tiny lady pulled a flower petal off her dress and started shining her glasses, cleaning off the dirt and random stains.

“Are-are you a fairy?” Rosa’s eyes were glittering with wonder at seeing a real, honest to god _fairy!_

The tiny woman laughed at her, and her butterfly wings glistened brightly with morning dew as she stood on the tip of Rosa’s nose.

“Of course silly! What else would I be?”

Rosa couldn't argue with that of course, because really-the little lady couldn't be anything but a fairy.

“I suppose you have a point, what's your name?”

The lady had a mischievous twinkle to her eyes as she replied, “Well come now little one, it's very rude to ask for someone's name before you give your own.”

Rosa forgot the very first rule of the fae, and proceeded to tell the little woman she was Rosa Potter, and that she was so very sorry for not saying sooner. Luckily for little Rosa Potter, that was not, in fact, her full name, and the fairy could not do much to her with only a half name. Doubly luckily for Rosa, the little fae had no ill intentions for her.

“It is lovely to meet you, little Rosa Potter! You may call me Rhiannon, and we all came to say hello!”

There was a buzzing of little wings as the other fairies came closer and started to introduce themselves in various absurd and obviously made up names.

“Your parents named you Thimble? That was awfully rude of them.” Rosa looked at the supposed Thimble, who had lovely mocha skin and even lovelier green hair, matching green moss growing in patches along her hips and joints. She appeared teasingly insulted, and braided a tiny lock of Rosa’s hair gently as she replied, weaving little flower petals into the rattly tussles.

“Well flower girl, humans have awfully boring names, and rarely anything fun or creative. Why do I have to have a boring name too?”

Rosa was finding it harder and harder to keep up with the fae as they continued to flutter around her and twitter insensately about one thing or another.

“Excuse me-yes hello, I’m sorry-what exactly are you all doing?”

She was being pulled along by a few dozen fairies as they all chattered and dipped and were generally very distracting-

Quite suddenly, Rosa felt herself be pulled forward just a bit too far, and she tripped, falling right through the dirt under her feet and into darkness, the fairies following right after her.

* * *

“I confess to almighty God,”

A little girl of nine years sat at the foot of her bed, ignoring the arguing from down the stairs. The sound of glass breaking and a woman screaming made her wince.

“-and to you, my brothers and sisters,”

Hermione’s parents were arguing again, and it was her fault. Father Edward had told her that the demons inside of her had cursed her family with misfortune, which was why her parents dental practice was dying.

“-that I have sinned through my own fault,”

The sound of something else breaking forced her to clench her eyes tighter together, her mother’s screaming had gotten louder, and she must have thrown something. They were arguing about her, about if they should keep her, she just knew it.

“-in my thoughts and in my words,”

Father Edward came by often to talk to her, trying to understand the demons inside of her. He said that they were tricky, and powerful. An evil force that tapped into her emotions and used them to grow stronger. That's why they were able to affect the shadows surrounding her, and even move objects about the room.

“-in what I have done,”

He insisted that she absolutely _must_ pray thrice a day: morning, noon, and night, and she obeyed dutifully. 

“-and in what I have failed to do.”

It didn't seem to work though, and as the bullying got worse, the demon got stronger. Her mother insisted on moving her to a boarding school, her father wanted to pull her out altogether, she was smart enough to homeschool herself anyhow.

“-and I ask you, my brothers and sisters,”

Another crash from down stairs made her tremble, it had never been this bad before. Whatever came of this argument would decide something big for her, that was certain.

“-to pray for me to the Lord, our God.”

 _They're going to take me away._ A tremble wracked though her, and she felt more than saw the shadows surge up to embrace her. If the demons were truly so evil, then why did they care for her so? 

“Amen.”

God certainly wasn't there for her, what did it say about him that the only beings willing to love her were the very things the church branded as ‘evil’ and ‘sinful’?

The shadows wrapped comfortingly around her midsection in the imitation of a hug, pulling her lightly into a wispy embrace.

If she was sinful by loving her demons, then her parents must be holy for hating her.

 _Bully for them._ She thought bitterly, standing up and creeping quietly to her desk, it was Saturday night, and come morning time Hermione’s parents would drag her off to church. She truly, deeply, despised the church. There was something gross in the air of a supposedly holy place, it always made her feel unclean and in need of a bath. She was forced to go anyway, and couldn't argue against if lest she be accused of being possessed that day (a regular and unpleasant occurrence). Regardless of that, Hermione still had homework to do, and resolved to complete it all that night.

That was how she spent the rest of her night, pretending that the voices downstairs didn't grow louder and angrier as arithmetic swam across her eyes. Hermione was very good at blocking out outside interference.

She had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am i the only one who doesn't really like the whole 'Harriet' name that people give Fem!harry? it just feels kinda cheap, cuz Lily's family obviously had a tradition of naming their girls after flowers. Idk, just my personal opinion on the matter.


	2. A Castle of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosa Potter twirls through a hall of crystal, unknowing of just what she will find at the end of it.

Rosa woke to a blade of grass tickling her nose, the lovely fairy named Thimble blocking her vision of much besides the delicate petals of blooming wildflowers. There was the sound of birds chirping and fairies chatting, and she blinked a few times in confusion, trying to remember what had happened to have found her in such a state.

“Oh there you are, Rosa dearest, we were worried you wouldn't wake.” Thimble was resting on top of a large rose-like flower with delicate pink petals, adjusting her dress-which appeared to be a white lily flower that had been turned upside down-so that it didn't constrict over her chest. Rosa realized that she was resting in a field of wildflowers, the sun shining down on her prone form happily. Glancing around in awe, she took in the scenery with owlish eyes, she had never seen such sprawling hills or so many colorful flowers in her life. She seemed to be on the edge of a lush forest, the middle ground between the dense woods behind her and rolling fields in front of her. The shade of the trees overhead allowed for her to sleep comfortably in the flowers while still being shielded from the sun overhead. There were mountains in the distance, towering expanses of rock and snow that shimmered in the sun, white tipped and sparkling even from so far away. Something twinkled like a diamond far in the distance, she wondered what it could be.

“Where am I?” Rosa rolled over to her back, staring curiously up at the lush canopy over her head. There were fairies still whizzing about above her, settling down onto tree leaves or dancing merily together among the wildflowers. She slowly sat up, wide eyes taking in all the wonderment before her. Rosa had always dreamed about having super powers, of being able to throw fire or change the weather, but she never contemplated _magic_ existing too! Of course, the existence of fairies proved that there must be a _world_ of fairies, and by extension a world of magic, it was simply the only thing that made sense!

“This is the fae realm, we kidnapped you!” Thimble looked all too pleased with herself, grinning impishly as she placed soft petals of a nearby flower into her mossy green afro, fluttering her paper-thin wings delicately as if fluttering her eyelashes. The unnamed fairies flew about, tittered and laughing with her words, singing lightly and petting Rosa’s hair. She giggled as one kissed her on the cheek softly.

“Kidnapped…?”

Rosa had heard Aunt Petunia warn her cousin Dudley about stranger danger, and had watched confusing films in school about scary men coming to take her away. She didn’t think that fairies really fell under the umbrella of ‘scary’ or ‘men’, and decided firmly that she had simply been taking someplace against her will, not kidnapped. When she confided her reevaluation in Thimble however, the woman simply laughed, and leapt off of the pretty pink flower to instead settle on Rosa’s shoulder.

“Well, our little misplaced flower, won't you come meet our queen?”

“Queen! Queen!” shouted the little fairies around her, giggling and screeching happily as they grabbed hold of her ratty clothes and tugged her upwards. Rosa shreeked, flailing about as she rose higher into the sky. She had always been a tiny little thing, and with twenty or so fairies pulling her about, the eight year old was no trouble to carry for the tiny tricksters.

“Wait! I haven't got the proper dress to meet royalty, I'll make a fool of myself!” 

Rosa had never met the royal family of Great Britain before, and never expected to do so in her whole entire life, so she was not expected to dress in anything but the dirty shirts and ratty trousers that her aunt gave her after Dudley had properly ruined them, the fairy queen would no doubt be horribly chastised by her lack of decorum.

Thimble, however, seemed unconcerned about her current state, and was instead going on and on about the castle and its gardens and all of the fae that lived within it.

“The queen lives there of course, and the king is in the castle somewhere too I'm sure, though no one really sees him all that much, busy tinkering away no doubt. Oh! There’s also a court of trickster fae that we’ll pass through on our way, and I’ve a friend that lives among them, she’s so much fun at parties.”

Rhiannon zipped to her other side, and overtook Thimble’s tittering with her own excited babbles, “you simply _must_ see the palace gardens, my auntie lives there and she says it's absolutely divine!” She glanced at Rosa again, “though you might do with a shrinkage or two to be able to fit inside her home.”

Rosa rather enjoyed the idea of being shrunk down to live in a tiny fairy house, and started to warm up to the prospect of being stolen away from humankind. She was also warming up to the fae realm in general, as she was carried along through the forest between vines of glowing flower buds and towering trees that reached upwards too far for her to see where they ended. There were curious red berries that pulsed with light, and little bunnies with deer horns that hopped about the place, sniffing at this and that. There were little doe with soft-looking white fur and poppy flowers growing from their horns, little pixies floating along on falling leaves; it was all so wonderful and whimsical that Rosa was automatically taken with the place. She wanted to explore it terribly.

“Thimble? Rhiannon? Uhm… why exactly are you all taking me to the queen?” Regardless of the beautiful flora and fauna, Rosa was still woefully underdressed for such an event, and wished that the fairies would be a little more open in their reasoning.

The fairies disagreed, simply tittering at her before zipping off quite unhelpfully. 

The shiny thing off in the distance that she had noticed before was back in full view, and Rosa shifted her head in an effort to see it, gasping in awe. The girl remembered watching Wizard of Oz in school one day, and the Emerald City paled in comparison to the glimmering diamond castle that stood proudly in the ever closer distance, seemingly rising up into the sky with a cliff that seemed to go straight to the center of the earth. The fairies raised their voices excitedly, quickening their pace towards the glittering castle as more and more of them joined in on carrying her aloft in the air. As they grew closer, Rosa realized that the castle had to be scraping against the heavens, with its pyres of light reflecting and refracting and glimmering beautifully. Every surface had rainbows glancing off them, creating a breathtaking view that overwhelmed her, childish glee peaking through the caution.

She was set down gently on a colossal ledge of crystal, and didn't get a single moment to admire the tall, sloping pyres, as she was pushed along through the towering gate and into a long, massive hall. Rosa started running along the solid gem floor, her eyes pointed skyward at the cristiline mosaic several hundred feet up. The fairies raced along with her as she sprinted through the infinite hall, laughing and dipping around massive statues of past queens and kings in various poses displaying their power. She jumped and whirled, the millions of rainbows and light glimmering impossibly through the place bouncing off of her glasses and making it almost impossible to see the actual crystals.

In her excitement, Rosa didn't even notice as the hall finally ended at a beautifully ornate crystal throne on which sat a breathtaking woman of elven qualities, who smiled at the laughing girl as she twirled about, but frowned at the tiny body and ratty clothing. 

“Welcome to Elphame, stolen child.”

Rosa turned her big owl eyes to the throne, and gasped, the first thing that came to mind being blurted out of her mouth, “you're beautiful!” 

Rosa realized her mistake and blushed, but the fairies echoed her playfully, ‘beautiful! Beautiful!’ they shouted, whizzing around Rosa’s head and chanting. The fae queen smiled patently, patting her lap and beckoning Rosa closer.

“Come here little one, come to your queen.”

She took a few careful steps forward, unsure of if the Queen was joking or really wanted Rosa to sit on her lap. The woman’s smile widened, and she made another coaxing motion with her finger. Tentatively stepping up the cristiline steps, Rosa climbed onto the large woman's lap, gazing up at her with undisguised awe. The little Potter’s only mental image of what a queen was supposed to look like was the Queen of England, and that woman looked nothing like the fae queen. The only similarity was that they both had white hair, though the fae queen had long-impossibly long hair which flowed down her front in ringlets, settling obediently into her lap, the rest of it pooling like water on the floor, and Rosa contemplated if it trailed behind her like a cape of hair as she walked. It was beautifully soft, and a few pieces seemed to float along in the air as if weightless. There was something of a halo of tiny blue hydrangea flowers that wrapped around her forehead to the back of her head, and trailed down into a waterfall of little petals and blossoms that sprawled across the floor with her hair. The queen’s eyes were striking, an almond shape that reminded Rosa of the librarian at her school; they were also a shocking golden hue that almost seemed to glow with brilliance, as bright and incredible as the castle around her. Her flowing gown was beautifully elaborate, made of hundreds of pieces of water-like fabric that floated along-much as her hair did-and was made up of various hues of whites and blues. 

She was utterly breathtaking.

Rosa suddenly became very, _very_ shy, looking down and fiddling with the hem of Dudley’s old shirt, mumbling a quiet ‘hello ma'am’ under her breath. The Queen didn't seem to mind, and started to pet the little girl's tangled mess of hair softly, as if trying to sooth her.

“Hello little flower, what is your name?”

“Rosa Potter, ma’am.”

The queens laugh sounded like what sunlight felt like on her skin, warm and comforting as it beamed down onto her. Rosa looked up curiously, and got a dazzling smile in return.

“I am Una, the last High Queen of the Daoine Sidhe, wife of the High King Finvarra, and mother of Morgan Le’Fay. It is an utter delight to meet you, little witch.”

Rosa didn't know why being the mother of someone was so notable that it had to be a title, but didn’t think much of it, as she was far more interested in being labeled as a witch. Thimble rested onto her shoulder and curtsied to the queen politely.

“Should-should I call you Queen Una or the last High Queen Una, uhm-your majesty?” Rosa didn't want to be rude on accident, and royals always seemed very particular about their titles. Aunt Petunia always said that politeness was the best way for little freaks like her to get by in the world, so it was important that she exercise good form whenever possible. The queen’s smile became slightly strained, as if she had heard something unpleasant, but was quickly back to normal.

“Well, since you are such a lovely little thing, you may call me Una, how about that?”

Rosa beamed, she had never been called lovely before, the fae queen was so wonderfully kind, she shouldn't have been worried about meeting her. Bouncing slightly in excitement, Rosa smiled winningly up at the woman, feeling more and more confident as the fairy on her shoulder cheered her on.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you!”

The sunny laugh warmed her cheeks once more, and Rosa fidgeted a little in her seat, wanting to ask why she had been called a witch, but not wanting to be rude. Una gave her a knowing smile.

“Whatever would you like to know, little flower of mine?”

“Why did you call me a witch?” the question burst out of her as if releasing a dam, and the queen laughed again. Rosa was really starting to love her laugh.

“Well, because that’s what you are, silly.”

“Like with the pointed hats?”

Thimble tittered, “No, like with magic wands and pretty lights!”

Rosa’s eyes widened, she was magic too? She-little savage Rosa Potter, had _magic?_

Queen Una smiled, “would you like to hear a story, my little witchy girl?”

Rosa bobbed her head politely, her owl eyes wider than normal behind her glasses. Lights danced across her vision as Una settled down to tell a tale that had been long since over and done with, but was immortal in its infamy.

“Once, there was a child, a girl of seven years, who was a wild little beast that fought against the bounds of mortal society with a feverity unknown to her human kin. Having been repulsed by her savagery, her human family exiled her to the woods, where she ran rampant among the wolves for twelve moons before being taken by the fae. She was brought before my throne, and I promised to raise her up with the teachings of magic and the fae and of the Sidhe. She grew into a force of nature-an enchantress with the magical prowess that bested Merlin himself.”

Rosa’s eyes widened, her memories of reading stories of the lady in the lake and the sword in the stone coming back with stunning accuracy. Merlin! The wizard that stood besides King Arthur and fought bravely with the knights of the round table.

“The enchantress traveled the world, meeting strange people in strange places, and upon the end of her story, ascended to immortality to rule Avalon, which she still does to this very day. She is Morgan Le’fay, my daughter in everything but blood, and you are so very like her, little Rosa Potter.”

Rosa looked up at the queen of the fae and made a considerable effort not to cry. It was one thing to look upon an incredible world of fantasy and realize that it was _real,_ and that you could feel the wind on your face and the impossible impossibilities opening up before you as if parting a curtain, but it was so incredibly incomprehensible to be looked upon and to be compared to someone great and eternal, it was overwhelming and improbable. Just the night before had she been watching the spiders crawl from under the crack in her door, envying their freedom.

A tear streaked down her cheek, and was brushed away gently by Una, who cradled her gently against her chest, whispering gently in a beautiful language that Rosa couldn’t understand, but wanted to.

“Shhhh… oh you poor little flower, what has been done to you?”

She made a noise of surprise as Una picked her up quite suddenly and started moving towards a side hall, humming softly under her breath. The tune was a gentle one, and made all of Rosa’s fears and unease vanish as she settled deeper into the woman’s bosom. Thimble tucked herself into the crook of Rosa’s neck, using her hair like a curtain of moss that covered her from the bright lights.

“You will live happily here, little rose, I promise.”

Rosa shifted, looking back up at Una curiously, “I’m staying here? But… my aunt will get very cross if I don't return by nightfall.”

The queen’s eyes hardened, and she held Rosa tighter.

“Listen to me, little rose of mine, you will never see those filthy mortal creatures ever again. You are _mine_ now, and I will not part with you.”

Rosa screwed her eyes up tightly, tears pricking the corners as she thought of all the times she had wished desperately for her mother, curled up in a tiny little cupboard with the spiders as her only company. It was a fine life she lived, one that she knew was better than being left to rot on the streets, but there was that loneliness in her chest as she watched Dudley get fawned over by her aunt; a seclusion that was furthered by the bullying and judgemental eyes that followed her at school. She let the tears fall as she was settled down on something impossibly soft. Opening her eyes, Rosa found herself in a room completely unlike the rest outside of the castle or the large throne hall. It had normal, white walls, though they were regal and embellished with subtle patterns and gold. The windows on one side were crystalline, as well as the balcony, which revealed nothing but sky. She sat on a massive bed, which appeared to be capable of holding five fully grown people rather than just her. There was a canopy of flowers above the bed, made up of an interchanging mix of blue hydrangea and lovely little buttercups. She recognized the blue flowers as the same ones decorating Una’s hair, and wondered if the buttercups decorated another’s brow. It looked like the bedroom of royalty, and she felt that she was undeserving of lying across the bed in the clothes she was wearing or the mud she no doubt was tracking in underfoot.

The queen looked down on her sadly, and started humming again while petting her hair. Rosa immediately became sluggish, and while she tried very hard to keep her eyes open, quickly fell asleep. 

Una kissed the middle of the girl's forehead, on the start of her scar, and immediately recoiled.

She had a peculiar expression on her face, and rubbed the scar questioningly, whispering to the sleeping girl in a hushed voice.

“Little flower, you've got something foul in that injury, does it pain you, I wonder?”

Thimble climbed to the tip of Rosa’s nose and examined the scar, shaking her head and harumping in distaste.

“It is horrible, your majesty, simply dreadful.”

Una nodded in agreement, pressing down into the scar questioningly, “very stubborn too, I’m trying to pull it out but can barely manage to get a grip on the wretched thing.”

She sighed, straightening out and watching the fairies buzz about the girl for a few moments. Thimble settled onto her outstretched finger, fluttering her wings prettily as Rhiannon pushed against her to perch on the digit as well.

“You two…” the fairies looked questionly at their queen, “I will fetch my husband to care for her, as he is far more adept at healing than I. I am confident he will help remove the thing in her scar and fix her body, so I am employing the both of you to protect her-guide her when I am unable. You will never leave her side, do you understand?” 

The fairies nodded obediently, silently promising to stay by the child for the rest of her days. The Fae Queen sighed tiredly, and went to find her king.

* * *

Hermione raced through the halls of her school, dodging around taller, older students in her effort to lose the bullies as they narrowed in on her. Her breath came out in little puffs, the adrenalin carrying her through much of the running-as she was not one for exercise. Dodging a basketball as it sore overhead towards her, Hermione ducked around a corner and rushed to the side of her favorite teacher, who was watching her with worry. Ducking behind Ms. McCarthy, Hermione watched the bullies round the bend and stop short at the sight of her behind the human wall of safety. The ringleader, John Lowell, made a face at her before running off, his gang following behind.

“Are you alright, Hermione dear?” 

The girl smiled up at her teacher, the woman was well into her sixties, and seemed insistent on being pleasant to every strange little child that came through her classroom’s doors, Hermione included.

“I’m wonderful, thank you Ms. McCarthy.”

It was bad to tell a teacher that bullies were after you, even if they were nice like Ms. McCarthy, as they would always either do nothing or do too much, and her parents would be mad if they were called by her counselor for getting bullied again. 

She smiled winningly at the teacher before running back off again, determined to get to the park ten minutes away before John and his gang of primary school drop-outs in the making decided to find her again. Her shadow seemed to agree, as a familiar force pushed at her back as a way to steer her forward.

Reaching the gate, Hermione’s polite jog turned to a dead sprint, her overflowing satchel thumping wildly against her back as she ran down the street. If she made it to the park before the other kids, she could run off into the darkened corners of the playsets and blend back into the shadows where she belonged. No one bothered her when she became enveloped in her shadow, no one even realized that she was there.

And that was how little Hermione Granger preferred it.

She rounded the bend, coming upon the tired wire fence of the old playground, the poor thing nearly toppling over from all the vines that had wrangled control of the structure. The gate was always locked, but all the children just jumped up onto a convenient stump and hopped over it, so the padlock (that was 90% rust as it was) didn't do much in keeping people out.

She panted for a moment, breathless from running so fast for such a time, before quickly scrambling over the fence into the playground proper. It was a rickety old thing from the twenties, and made entirely of rusted metal and splinters, but the children at her primary school utterly adored the place, as did she. There was a slide that was so rusted from rain that you couldn't even slide down it without needing a tetanus shot-that was where all the older kids hung around to smoke cigs without their parents finding out. The swing set didn't have any swings on it anymore, and had been unofficially turned into a particularly dangerous jungle gym, where all the athletic kids and snooty idiots hung around to try and not break their arm or neck. Then there was the old rocking horse, which was always taken up by the weird girl that was obsessed with equines-Hermione never bothered talking with her, regardless of them both being outcasts. What was the point of having an intelligent conversation with someone if it had to be about horses and horses only?

No, none of those rusty old treasures were what she could consider her domain, Hermione only spent a moment taking in the dilapidated playscapes before trotting over to an old rusted bench that sat at the treeline. It had been partially buried at some point, so that the seat was level with the dirt, and was-like the rest of the playground-covered in rust. When she sat on it, her ankles could tip off of the metal and into the dirt with her unable to discern where the metal ended and the earth began unless she looked down, so it was perfect for a smaller child such as herself to sit on. Another wonderful feature of the bench was the large willow tree it was buried under, which almost completely obstructed anyone's view into the interior and-by extension-anyone that could be sitting on the bench. Because of this, not only could her shadow stretch out and keep her safe from prying eyes or worried adults, but she could also be nice and cool in the summer months when she spent almost every waking second in the park. 

The only downside was all the rust, but she had nicked an old ratty blanket from her grandparents house that she was sure they wouldn't miss, and was able to sit quite comfortably there.

She brushed aside the hanging branches of the willow tree, her shadow darting forward and immediately expanding through the area. She smiled, her heart settling as she plopped down onto her bench, legs out straight ahead of her as she rustled through her bag for the book she had started that evening. It was about King Arthur and Camelot, and she devoured the wondrous world of Merlin and the noble Knights of the Round Table with a hunger that was difficult to meet. Her shadow danced around the place as she read, leaving just enough light peaking through itself for her to still read comfortably. The other children started to arrive, if the shouts of happiness and excitement started ringing out from beyond her haven were to be believed. Hermione merely adjusted her stature and ignored them, assured in her solitude.

* * *

Rosa woke to warm, calloused hands lifting her from soft covers. For several moments she thought that she was perhaps floating along in heaven, and her faceless father had bent down to gather her in steady arms. She slowly opened her eyes, and the first thing assaulting her eyes being white fabric trimmed with threads of gold. The color reminded her explicitly of the yellow buttercups that complemented the hydrangea in the canopy. She looked up, and made eye contact with shining blue. She gasped, taking in the shockingly handsome man that was carrying her carefully down a hall. He seemed to complement Una perfectly, his clothes trimmed the rich gold of the queen's eyes, and he had a wreath of buttercups twined about his head of hair, which rested in soft trestles around his broad shoulders like sea foam lapping at a sandy beach. His hair was more blond than the bold white of Una’s, and was decorated with small braids of golden ribbon and cuffs. He was clean shaven, and his striking blue eyes looked down at her with undisguised kindness, he gave off the air of someone safe-a person whom you could trust immediately. 

He, like the queen, was utterly breathtaking.

“Hello little flower.”

His voice was smooth and mellow, like a bass clarinet, and seemed to have an amused undertone, as if he had just been laughing. She didn't answer for a moment, too mesmerized by his unearthly beauty to register that he had spoken anything of substance.

“Hello sir”

It was barely a breath, not even a whisper, and he smiled goodnaturedly at her.

“I am Finvarra, husband of the High Queen, crowned High King of the Daoine Sidhe, and royal healer of the capitol city Elphame. It is a pleasure to meet you, little Rosa Potter.”

“You're the king?” she squeaked, eyes as wide as saucers under her glasses. Britain didn't even _have_ a king, what was she supposed to do now that one was carrying her about?

He laughed lightly, it sounded like the salty spray of ocean mists, the smell of natural salts in water. 

If Una was the sun, Finvarra was the ocean.

“I am, quite the title, eh?”

She nodded jerkily, still observing him with the wide eyes of a completely enthralled child. She only pulled her eyes off of him when they entered a large room filled to the brink with various exotic and magical looking plants, as her gardener mind took over. Aunt Petunia had only really been comfortable in unleashing Rosa into the garden to do chores, as plants were a unyielding fascination the girl had. It was simple work to her-enjoyable, and soothing-so her aunt was happy to leave Rosa to the dirt and mud.

“This is the medical wing, where I’ll be healing you.”

She blinked. “Medical wing? But it's practically a garden!”

He laughed, the feeling of waves crashing gently against her back returned with the smell of the sea.

“Plants and animals are the best for healing injuries, and the energy they give off helps the healing process.”

He set her down on a bed of Dandelions, his calloused hands brushing against the little yellow flowers with a practiced ease. The breathtaking language that Una had spoken to her hours before came tumbling from his lips like the splash of mossy rocks off a cliffside into an icy sea. She didn't dare interrupt his singing, partially because she was so inraptured by it and partially because she felt to her core that it was doing something extremely important and interrupting would do absolutely no good.

Finvarra picked one of the dandelions and held it to her forehead, his melodious singing dropping to a meer whisper. She felt a tug, as if her skull was turning to liquid and being pulled out of her, and she fell back into the flowers as the tugging gave one last shove before stopping abruptly.

The fae king hummed curiously, twirling the dandelion around and examining its new appearance. It was a deep, sickly red, and seemed to be wilting further and further every second. Nodding incrementally, he gave Rosa a reassuring smile before getting up and walking over to a shelf which held nothing but small glass jars, pulling one off and shoving the tainted flower inside and corking it. He then set the glass phial onto an oddly sterile desk and moved back over to Rosa, crouching back down and brushing his thumb over her scar gently.

“Let's get you a bath now, yes?”

She nodded, yawning as he gathered her back up in his arms gently. 

“You are very brave, little flower.” it wasn't an observation, but a statement. Rosa didn't think she was brave, overly curious perhaps, but not brave. If someone swung at her she ran the other direction as fast as she could, but if a fairy told her to run off into the woods she would say ‘of course” without a second thought. Curiosity wasn’t bravery, it was intrigue. 

She didn't tell Finvarra that though, he was nice and gentle and Rosa didn't want to frustrate him by disagreeing with his statement. Adults always seemed to get angry when she disagreed with them.

A familiar humming broke Rosa from her thoughts, and she peered over Finvarra’s shoulder to see Una floating along towards them, looking as vibrant and happy as could be, Thimble and Rhiannon fluttering along next to her.

“Una!”

The queen glanced in her direction as Finvarra turned towards her, “well hello little flower, how has my husband been taking care of you?”

The two little fairies zipped over to Rosa settling down on each of her shoulders, whispering fairy rumors and the newest drama in her ear teasingly.

“My auntie said you can come by sometime, but only after youve been properly shrunk, Rosa dear.”

“My cousin wants to meet you as well, Rosa, won't you come to the garden and say hello?”

Finvarra smiled at his wife, holding Rosa up as if a trophy, “I've done a cleanse to her scar as you asked, and found a nasty little soul shard stuck in it.” The king grinned winningly, “I've got it in the medical wing if you’d like me to study it, my bottled sunshine.”

Her smile was like the sun, and Rosa’s face warmed with either the heat it gave off or her own embarrassment, she really was woefully underdressed to share company with such incredibly beautiful aristocrats.

“Oh that sounds lovely, sea foam of mine, thank you.”

Rosa found herself passed from person to person, and Finvarra gave her a parting wink, before going back the way they came. 

“Little flower, were you off to the baths?”

Rosa nodded, making an effort not to disturb the precariously perched fairies on her shoulders as she did so.

“Oh finally, Rosa dear, you are in desperate need of a good scrub,” Rhiannon crossed her legs primly as she spoke, and the little Potter had to make a considerable effort to not break her own neck trying to see the little fairy. “You simply must let me braid your hair once it's clean too, oh won't you pleaseeee?”

Thimble started quickly listing off all the hairstyles they could try out once Rosa’s long raven-black hair was washed, combed, and washed again. Rhiannon insisted on weaving flowers of some sort into it as well-so she would match the queen and king of course-as well the typical fae fashions that were currently all the rage. Rosa giggled along with the fairy's antics, feeling lighter after Finvarra took the soul shard out of her head, how had it even gotten there, she wondered?

“Here we are little rose, what do you think?”

It looked more like an indoor pool than a bath, though the steam waving off of it gave credence to the body of water being more bath-like than your typical pool. Upon sharing this observation with the queen, Una only giggled gently, the glow of her eyes warming further as she smiled.

“I suppose you could see it that way, though most pools here are for rituals, not recreation.”

Rosa was very interested in what rituals were supposed to be, but held her tongue as Una set her down on the marbled floor and asked kindly for her to de-robe. Rosa did so, and found herself being picked up and settled into the water almost immediately. She was about to panic-as she had never learned to swim-but found that she was sitting on a ledge that jut out of the sides of the ‘bath’, and could sit easily without worrying about her head becoming submerged.

Thimble and Rhiannon zipped about, grabbing fancy jars of soaps and ornate hairbrushes as Una gently dumped warm water on her shoulders and back.

The water wasn’t normal-Rosa could tell-it felt just like water sure but moved against gravity, moving up and down her body in an attempt to clean her.

“Is the water magical too?”

Thimble returned to her line of sight, a washcloth (which looked more like a blanket for the fairy) clutched in her hands. “Of course! Why wouldn’t it be?”

Rosa didn't have much to say in regards to that, and instead contemplated the fairy’s words as her face was gently rubbed with the wet cloth. It was possible that magic was similar to technology in that people that use it are constantly inclined to make it more and more immersed into their lives. Rosa’s history lessons in school had revealed things like the industrial revolution and humanities continued climb forward towards an unknown goal, how they were constantly trying to create new things that connected them with technology more and more. Magic must be similar, and whatever creatures used it must also be inclined to keep putting magic into more and more things till it had extended past reasonable means of using it. 

Rosa was broken out of her daydreaming of cyborg wizards when warm water was splashed onto her head, where it proceeded to give her something of a head massage. As the water was attempting to pull all of the dirt and grime from her scalp, Una took some of the liquid soap from the fancy bottles that Rosa had to assume was shampoo and started to card it through the rest of her ratty black hair. The scrubbing was rhythmic, and Una started humming along with it as if making a song. Rosa wondered distantly if music could also be magical somehow.

The water on her scalp started slowly running down the rest of her hair, gathering up the suds and eventually joining its brethren in the bath, Una started massaging the shampoo into her scalp quickly after that, still humming gently. It was two more washes in this way before the queen was seemingly satisfied.

“Alright you two, have at it.”

Thimble and Rhiannon surged forward, matching hair brushes gathered in their arms. She giggled and squealed as they zipped and dipped around her in an effort to brush every last fibre of hair. When they were done, Rosa reached up to her hair and found it was immaculately untangled and falling in still drying tressels.

“Oh lovely, absolutely lovely,” Thimble looked extremely pleased with herself, zipping around Rosa as Rhiannon gathered up all sorts of fancy ribbons and lace, which were immediately taken by the queen with a laugh. Rosa was pulled from the water, now squeaky clean from head to toe, and wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe that just barely ended above her ankles.

Una led her over to a jutting block of stone, where she sat down to get her hair properly done up. 

“How about a nice bun, little flower?”

Rosa nodded shyly, watching as the queen and the two little fairies weaved elaborate braids of hair and ribbon up to the upper back of her head, where the thick hair was twisted and intertwined with the ribboned braids and little cuffs of gold reminiscent of the king's hair decor. Once they were done, Rosa looked out at a girl that had her face and scar, but still felt so incredibly different from what she usually was. She felt more free than she ever had racing through the woods behind #4 Privet Drive, a kind of emotional release that settled gently over her heart and warmed it. 

Una kissed her cheek sweetly, “much better.”

The fairies zipped about, checking for tiny imperfections in her do-up while lavishly complimenting her.

“Absolutely divine!”

“Utterly breathtaking dear.”

“Beautiful! Handsome? Oh just wonderful!”

“So lovely, oh so lovely.”

Una hooked her hands under Rosa’s armpits and gathered her back up, the fluffy bathrobe making the little girl far more comfortable than she ever thought possible. She giggled as her two fairy friends plopped down on her lap, arguing and shoving in their effort to wrap up in the robe themselves.

Rosa yawned, settling down and letting the warmth from Una and the arguing voices of the two fairies rock her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm approaching the legends of Morgan Le'Fay as well the fae with a historical lense, and there won't be much about them that is just made up (though there will be some for plot purposes, as well as for aesthetic, if any of you have read my other work you know how much I love my symbolism).
> 
> On Morgan Le'Fay: she was often cited as being an enchantress, fairy, or goddess, and many legends actually said that she was kidnapped and raised by the fae in Sidhe (fairy mounds where they lived or the actual realm of fairies, the stories vary about names or places) so it isn't inaccurate to say that she was raised by the queen of fairies either, considering her rather impressive magical prowess. She was indeed sighted as eventually becoming immortal and settling to rule Avalon, so that is also accurate to the mythos (at least from the sources that I read all said that)
> 
> On the Fae: The names of the fairy queen and king are accurate to original texts, and as all accounts point to the fairy society being matriarchal, that's also the way I'm going with this fic (though there won't be aggressive man-hating in any respect, because fae aren't human and dont hate like we do, though they acknowledge that female fae are naturally stronger through a societal lense). This will be touched on more and more as we go through the story, and we'll definitely get a good look at what that kind of society could potentially look like.


	3. Tethered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are all tethered to something, whether it be your home, your family, or a job.  
> Not all tethers are bad, and some unbind heavy shackles, replacing thick iron chains with the silky petals of a rose.  
> Though, most are an unfortunate reality of life, that simply cannot be escaped from, no matter how fast you run.

Albus Dumbledore didn’t even bother looking up from his paperwork when a familiar alarm went off, telling him that Rosa Potter had left the property of #4 Privet Drive. When Arabella Figg had met with him a few years prior, she spoke constantly about what a little explorer the Potter heiress was, going on and on about how she had found the girl snooping about in her rose bushes so many times that she had given up trying to stop the lass. The girl also left constantly for school, so the alarm was of no consequence.

He became slightly more concerned when a second alarm sounded, revealing that Rosa Potter had come into contact with magic of some capacity. While this was naturally quite concerning, as she lived in a muggle area, it was not impossible that the girl could have potentially passed through a magic-heavy area, or perhaps met a muggleborn on the street. He set his quill down for a moment, but after hearing nothing else, assumed it was nothing to worry about and returned to his paperwork.

That initial concern turned quite quickly into an undisguised panic as nearly every alert he had on the girl sprang into life, triggered by something currently unknown to the man. Jumping from his chair, Dumbledore tried to make sense of the various alarms, with little luck. Some of them were saying the girl had been taken out of a hundred mile radius with #4 Privet Drive, others were saying that the girl didn't _exist_ anymore, others insisted that the blood wards had fallen. All this at once assaulted the old man’s brain until he sent out an aggressive burst of magic, forcing them all to fall silent.

Dumbledore stood, trying to make sense of all the alarms with growing dread. Something was _very_ wrong with the girl-who-lived.

He acted fast, sending out a burst of magic which opened the floo access to anyone who wished to come through. Grappling with several sheets of parchment, he quickly wrote out notices to everyone in the Order of the Pheonix to get to his office as soon as it was possible for them to do so, emphasizing that something dreadful had happened. He gave these to Fawkes, knowing that the phoenix could get the notices spread out to the members quickly. Turning again, he called for an elf. It was May, and students were still milling about the castle, so he had to be far more discrete in contacting the two professors that also mingled with the old crowd. Through the elf he sent another two letters, one to Minerva and one to Snape, saying to come to the headmasters office as quickly as possible.

His communications done, Dumbledore gathered up all the devices that had been blaring and started reading through what they had been alerting him for, finding with growing dread that many of them related to the proximity of magic to Rosa Potter, as well as the girl’s location in Britain. Which in itself was the most worrying alarm, being that the girl was not, in fact, in the British Isles or Europe, from what the devices told him.

The girl-who-lived had been kidnapped.

He groaned, rubbing his face tiredly, this could potentially ruin everything. Sitting back slowly, Albus watched people arrive with already exhausted eyes, thinking through what he would tell the Order, how to phrase it, and what details to leave out. This was a thin tightrope that he would walk, but for the good of the wizarding world he would walk it.

Alastor Moody was the first to arrive, with Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Weasleys close behind. Dumbledore motioned them over with a worry-stricken face, automatically putting all of them on edge.

Molly Weasley was the first to speak. “Albus, what on earth is going on?”

He sighed again, rubbing his eyes tiredly, how had it all gone so wrong so fast? “I would like to start explaining once everyone is here, if you don’t mind Molly. I will say though that the situation is quite dire.”

The Order members in attendance shared worried glances, settling down in chairs set up in a half circle around the headmaster's desk. Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall came in shortly after that, Snape appearing rather annoyed with being dragged from the dungeons. It was a tense ten minutes as they all sat there waiting for everyone to finally arrive. Once the room was packed with the entire Order however, Dumbledore stood, making the room fall silent.

“I am afraid that something of great consequence has happened.” Worried murmurs erupted from the crowd, he continued. “Just thirty minutes ago I received an alert from the home where Rosa Potter lives, relaying to me that she left the house. I was not concerned at first, but several other alerts reacted simultaneously only ten minutes later, relaying that she had come into contact with a large amount of magic, and then suddenly disappeared from Europe. It appears that the girl-who-lived has been kidnapped by a currently unknown individual.”

The room was dead silent for a moment, until everything descended into chaos. Molly Weasley fainted, needing to be caught by her husband lest she hit the ground. Emmeline Vance shouted something discernable as Shackbolt and Moody spoke intensely to each other, no doubt already discussing possible avenues in finding the girl.

Dumbledore sighed, he didn’t want to involve the ministry in finding the girl, as it was sure to get out to the public that she was missing, which would cause panic to race across the British Isles. No, it would be best if he could keep this in the Order and try and find the girl some other way. It was worrying that she was not in Europe, as cross-border portkeys were illegal in most countries. If he couldn't find her by her ninth birthday, Dumbledore supposed that he would have no choice but to confide the girl's disappearance in Millicent Bagnold, but he had months till then.

“Everyone, please! Settle down, settle down.”

“Oh Albus what are we to do!”

Molly was in a fit, grasping Arthur’s arm in a vice grip. Others murmured their agreement, and all eyes pointed to him. Dumbledore knew that he could take this several ways, and perhaps if he played his cards right, he could use the girl's disappearance to his advantage.

“As Miss. Potter is certainly not in Europe, I believe it would be best to search magical communities outside of it. I believe that it is impossible to apparate across the sea, so it is likely that the assailant either used an illegal portkey to jump country lines, or some sort of… dark magic.”

Shocked gasps rocked the room, Severus Snape rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I'm afraid it is a rather likely possibility. Now-yes, Alastor?”

Mad-eye Moody stepped forward, sniffing as he gazed around the room, Alastor was a good auror, but not one that particularly cared for authority. He respected Albus though, so the headmaster was sure the man was one of his closest allies in life.

“Well Albus, if the lass isn't in Europe anymore, it's likely that the kidnappers are workin’ with people in America, since the states hand out international portkeys to important people on specific occasions.” Kingsley nodded, confirming the man’s words as the rest of the Order murmured among themselves, it certainly had credence.

“You believe we should start our search in the states then, Alastor?”

Moody nodded once, “more specifically New York. Most of the magical community over there is spread out along the coast line, but the vast majority is in New York City and the surrounding area.”

Albus nodded placatingly, attempting to lower tensions in the room as the murmurs gained volume. “Yes well, I suppose it is our best bet at the current time. Whomever is willing to travel across the pond, please rise?”

Many people rose, most of them being either capable of leaving their jobs for extended periods or already retired, Moody being among them.

“Excellent! I thank you all for your assistance, I am quite confident that we can find young Miss. Potter soon enough.”

Everyone started milling out after that, and as they did Dumbledore motioned Snape over to his desk. The dour man sneered, but moved from his place on the wall regardless. Waiting until everyone was gone from the room, the headmaster pulled a slip of paper from one of the many stacks littering his desk, holding it out to Snape with a smile.

“Now Severus, as a halfblood-” the man’s sneer deepened, “-you have much better knowledge of muggle areas than any of the other professors at Hogwarts. Because of that, I ask that you take the day off and instead recover this book for me. The tracking enchantments state that it is in northern London, I believe the area is called Hampstead?”

Snape appeared somewhat constipated, but accepted the small slip of paper regardless.

“Wonderful! Thank you Severus.”

“Good day, headmaster.”

* * *

Rosa woke to tiny hands poking her nose. Peaking an eye open, she quickly screwed it shut again as sunlight streamed through a window to hit her right in the eye. At first she was confused, there weren't any windows near her cupboard, why was there sunlight?

“Rosa~”

She grumbled at the sing-song voice, pressing her face down into a pillow that seemed much more comfortable than her ratty plastic one.

“Rosa, you can't sleep the day away silly! You promised you would come meet my auntie today.”

“Mmh…”

“Oh she really doesn't want to get up, does she. What should we do, Thimble?”

“Just leave her be, poppet. What's the harm in sleeping in?”

Memories came rushing back to her, and Rosa’s eyes flew open as she bolted up in the bed. 

“Oh! There you are, good morning!”

The first thing she saw was leaves.

The bed that she was laying on, which itself was delightfully comfortable and absolutely covered in pillows, was underneath what seemed like a weeping willow growing right out of the floor. Turning to the right, she found that the hanging leaves had been parted into a curtain, which let in a large portion of the light. Curiously, she scooted over to the edge of the bed and peaked through the opening, taking in the room she had slept in with wide eyes.

It was more of a greenhouse than a bedroom, as it was covered floor to ceiling in massive trees and various flora, vines draping down from ancient branches and butterflies fluttering about peacefully. Looking up, she squinted, attempting to make out where the walls ended and the ceiling began, but only seeing blue sky instead. Giving up, she looked underfoot, finding to her delight that where she thought was a carpet actually ended up being lovely green moss. Glancing around a bit closer, she found that there were stepping stones strewn throughout the room, going off into different directions that were obscured with tropical leaves and giant flowers.

“Where am I?”

Rhiannon lounged across her shoulder, thin butterfly wings fluttering gently. “In your room of course.”

That made Rosa go stiff. Her room…? 

“I've never had a room before.”

It was a quiet admission, and both fairies shared heavy looks as the little girl got up and started observing the room with silent awe. Her room. _Hers._

Rosa turned around, finding that her bed sat underneath a massive, hunched over weeping willow that almost completely covered the circular bed. On closer inspection, she found the canopy decorated with thick rose vines, which wrapped around the old gnarled branches and hung down to nearly brush against the bed itself.

Apparently, fae really liked assigning flowers to people. As it was, Rosa really didn't mind.

She decided to follow one of the little paths, the two fairies following closely behind her as she hopped through the mossy earth. The path veered off to the right of her bed, trailing down through towering trees and lush, flowering bushes. It didn't take long for her to come upon a small hotspring, familiar jars of liquid soap and other fancy bath things that she had seen before but never dared to use at #4 Privet Drive lining the pool. There was gentle steam wafting off of the spring, and peering into the water she found colorful pebbles a foot down on the shallow bottom.

“Is this a bath?”

Thimble peered over the edge as well, admiring her own reflection while replying. “Well of course, would you like to take a dip?”

Rosa felt quite clean from her bath the day before, so she shook her head minutely and rose back to her feet. Other than the little spring and various bath stuffs, there was a large mirror inset in a large stone which seemed to blend carefully into the scenery. Walking over to it, she smiled at her reflection, she was still wearing the bathrobe from the other day, but that didn't matter much to her. Her cheeks were rosy, eyes shining happily from behind her glasses. Her hair still set in a fancy updo, though some shorter hairs had fallen loose.

“Oh Rosa I completely forgot, we should really go find you some clothes. My auntie would be ever so insulted if you showed up in a bathrobe.” Rhiannon still sat perched on her shoulder, her short blonde hair bobbing as she nodded her head affirmatively. Rosa felt that since the king and queen didn't seem to care much with what she wore, she was safe to wear the soft robe wherever she pleased, but Rhiannon was insistent.

Following along as the fairy buzzed about in search of some sort of closet, they explored through the rest of the room. It appeared to be circular, and relatively big-much bigger than any room Rosa had slept in-though the natural decor helped to make it seem much bigger than it actually was. Off to the left of the bed was a massive door that likely led out of the room, and the two fairies insisted that she had to get dressed before running off to breakfast. Rosa hadn't been all that convinced that she couldn't just get breakfast from the bushes in her room, but apparently the queen and king wanted her to eat with them. She still picked off a few berries to munch on on their walk to the wall opposite of her bed, since that was the last place to go. True enough, it opened up into a clearing with several large wooden cabinets and storage. The cabinets were a deep brown that blended into the trees they stood in front of, and vines crawled up their legs as if they had been there for years. However, when Rosa opened one, she found a variety of silky dresses and shirts and pretty lacy things, all of which she didn't fully believe she was allowed to wear. 

“Oh! Isn't this lovely?”

Thimble pulled at a white dress, which sported wave-like fabric that looked incredibly delicate. Rosa vetoed it in favor of a loose, emerald green button up shirt with rose embroidery all across the back, as well as a sturdy-looking brown skirt that she really liked. She wiggled on some panties and tucked the shirt into the skirt. Looking closely at herself in the mirror, she smiled softly. The earth tones suited her, and while her thick glasses felt a little off with the rest of her getup, Rosa was still able to admit that she looked quite lovely. The fairies squealed, and Rhiannon insisted that she was going to decorate Rosa’s hair with little rose buds and leaves, and that neither of them would be able to convince her otherwise.

“What about shoes, they must want me to wear some, yes?”

Both of the fairies looked at her blankly. “What are shoes?”

She blinked, remembering distantly that she hadn't seen the Una’s feet from under her dress, and had never noticed any sort of shoes on the king either. Did fae not wear shoes?

“They cover your feet.”

The little fairies gasped, sounding scandalized, Rosa agreed with the reaction silently, shoes were dreadful.

“I wouldn’t dare let you torture yourself by covering your feet Rosa, the queen will have my wings if I ever considered the thought!”

The little Potter girl was starting to realize that Rhiannon was the more dramatic of the pair, as Thimble simply laughed lightly at the admission. Where Rhiannon would buzz about and chatter about nothing and everything, Thimble was far more carefree, and inclined to sleep in the crook of Rosa’s neck instead of doing much else.

“Well I certainly won't complain if I'm not supposed to be wearing shoes, I've always found them constricting really.”

The little woman sighed in relief, and put the final touches on Rosa’s hair, clipping long chains of gold onto the little hoops that had been weaved into the braids. They dangled pleasantly, a cold string of metal clinking against her neck, glasses, and occasionally her cheeks as she walked.

She felt like a princess.

“Well aren't you lovely.” Thimble cooed, poking Rosa’s cheek as she did so, making the girl giggle.

“Yes yes, absolutely stunning, shall we be off now?” Rhiannon seemed particularly impatient, and Rosa followed obediently behind her as the little fairy led her out of the room and into an impossibly long crystal hallway. For a moment she thought perhaps she was back in the main hall, but realized that the crystal didn’t reflect any light or rainbows.

“Why don't the walls reflect light?”

Thimble hummed from her shoulder, “perhaps it became too overwhelming to constantly walk through? I'm sure the queen was able to magic it into opaqueness.”

Rosa didn't know what opaqueness was supposed to be, but could agree that magic probably made the walls stop reflecting and refracting. Regardless though, it was still beautiful, and the three creatures strolled (or flew) through the long hall on a path towards what Rhiannon was positive was the north wing of the castle. Rosa enjoyed the cool stone underfoot as she walked, feeling relaxed and happy in what she hoped was her new home. Suddenly feeling playful, she twirled arounds, laughing with glee as her skirt twirled with her. She started skipping, still watching the skirt as it moved and twirled around with her. Rosa had never worn a skirt before, never needing to be fancy in any way, and had always heard from the other girls that they were horrible. This skirt though, felt free and loose, going up to just below her knee and allowing considerably more movement than Dudley’s old oversized trousers. She felt the need to climb something, or go running around in the wildflower field she woke up in the morning before.

_It's been an entire day._

She realized then, quite suddenly, that she was absolutely famished. Picking up her pace, Rosa broke out into a jog down the hall, feeling her bare feet thump against the hard marble-like crystal underfoot.

“There it is! See I told you it was down this way Thimble, why don't you ever trust me?”

Speeding up, Rosa barreled through the open doors and into the bright outdoors, taking in an absolutely _massive_ garden that seemed to stretch beyond her comprehension.

“Little flower, there you are!”

She whirled to her left, watching as Una nearly floated across the garden towards her, stepping gracefully forward from where she had been sitting at a small circular table with Finvarra. She was wearing something similar to what Rosa wore, to the girl's surprise, though the queen sported her typical whites and blues instead of the greens and browns of Rosa’s outfit. The women's impossibly long hair was flowing free though, and the girl noted with delight that the fae queen’s hair would indeed be trailing the floor behind her, if it wasn't for the fact that it all floated along behind her as if wafting on an invisible breeze.

“Good morning Una!”

“Your majesty.”

“Ello’ poppet.

Rhiannon elbowed Thimble, who rolled her eyes and curtsied in tandem with the other fairy, Rosa giggled as Una smiled down at them.

“It is wonderful to see you all this fine morning. Now, little rose, you must be starving! Please, come and eat.”

Rosa smiled broadly, skipping over to the table with the woman and plopping down giddily. She noticed with glee that there were several tiny tables scattered about the one she sat at, which were all filled with fairies and pixies who were all snacking away on tiny cakes and berries as they chattered to each other. It was a delightful scene, and she was so taken by it that she didn’t even notice as Una scooped eggs, bacon, and a mountain of fruit onto her plate, or when Finvarra cheekily placed a thin slice of cake onto the pile as well, receiving a stern look from his wife in response.

“Go on Rosa, tuck in.”

She ate distractedly, barely noticing that she was eating her fill for the first time in years as she watched the little fae chatter and laugh at their tiny tables. 

_It’s all so wonderfully… magical!_

She polished off the cake with a satisfied hum, now looking out to the sprawling gardens that surrounded her. It was untamed in a noticeably intentional way, as if pruned to imperfect perfection. Flowering vines covered every artificial structure, crisscrossing stone walkways and creeping up old, moss-covered statues of long forgotten heroes. While they sat in a courtyard surrounded by exotic plants and flowers, the deeper into the garden the more dense it became, and Rhiannon explained how you would eventually come upon fairy towns built into ancient trees out in the woods. The towering trunks of trees that had been around for eons loomed in the distance, the trees in the royal garden had been among the first trees of the universe, having birthed the first fae themselves. Millions and billions of years later, they still stood firm, and stretched so far and wide that colonies upwards of two hundred fairies could hollow out enough room for every single fairy to get their own home without even putting a dent in the outer bark.

Turning back to the table, she found another slice of cake on her plate, and Una sending pointed looks across the table to an amused Finvarra. She decided that if food was in front of her she would eat it, and quickly dug into the slice.

Una apparently lost the staring contest, as she huffed half-heartedly and turned back to Rosa, who attempted to eat a bit neater with the queen’s eyes on her. It took only a few moments for her to finish up the slice of cake, in which she met Una’s eyes politely.

The woman smiled, and slid a flat square box across the table to her.

“Now listen carefully, little rose. This is a present that we are giving to you with the express permission to use it as often as you please.”

Rosa carefully untied the red ribbon that held it together, pulling back the lid and peering inside. She gasped, pulling out a beautiful gold necklace. The chain held a golden pendant, which sported a ruby inset in its casing, with two golden fairies that looked suspiciously like Thimble and Rhiannon on either side of the gem, posed in such a way that they seemed to be carrying it between them. 

It was beautiful, and Rosa couldn't possibly accept it.

Before she could refuse the beautiful gift, Una started to explain what it was. “In this realm, being able to change shape and form is an important part of maneuvering into different places, and as a human it takes a considerable amount of your magic to do what fae can do naturally. Obviously, we can't have you obstructed by pesky things like being too large or too small to get into places, so this necklace will allow you to change shape and form just as easily as we can.”

She looked down at the pendant, gobsmacked, Una continued.

“Along with that however, are some annoyances that it also corrects. Since you belong to the fae realm now, your magic, soul, and body are forever tethered to our world, just as any other fae is. You are still human however, and therefore have human magic. It is my understanding that the wizarding world has a rather mundane practice of gathering their children in one place to learn magic all at once-”

“You mean school?”

Una blinked, “Is that what it's called? Hm, well I am aware that ‘school’ is a potential issue, as no one here truly understands human magics, so we would be unable to teach it to you as well as the human teachers could. Because of this, the amulet allows you to stay in the human realm for longer stretches of time than would normally be comfortable for you.”

This confused Rosa somewhat, she had only been taken a day before, surely she didn’t become repulsed to the human world that quickly? After relaying this query to Una however, she got an answer.

“Fae are extremely different from mortal creatures, we function differently and never will be capable of melding with any place besides the lands in which we were bred from. The earth of the fae realm itself is _alive,_ it breathes and lives with us and we are connected to that irreversibly. This makes us easily capable of slipping through cracks and entering other places, staying there for as long as we wish, as our home knows that we will return and keeps us strong. Humans however, are mortal and born onto soil that holds nothing but dirt and the dead. When a human passes through to this world, the living earth surges up to meet them, and latches on. You were tethered the second you came here, little rose, and it is very hard to convince your soul to leave.”

“But-but what about Morgan Le’Fay? Didn't she become tethered as well? And she was able to leave.”

Una smiled, seeming glad that Rosa was so inquisitive. “Yes, she did, And she received a similar necklace so that she could commune with the humans, but once she ascended to immortality, Avalon became her home, and she was instead tethered to its soil.”

Rosa was enthralled, the idea of the dirt underneath her feet being alive had her train of thought trail off to when she woke in the wildflower field. Did the breathing earth underneath her take hold of her soul like a warm hug? Curling around her and promising to keep her safe?

“So if I become immortal, I'll get to stay here forever? Since this is my home now, right?”

The queen laughed, making Rosa smile happily. “Of course not dear, you can already stay here forever. As long as you stay here, you will age just the same as any fae would. Once you reach maturity, your aging process will slow to almost a complete halt.”

The girl’s eyes were blown wide, and she contemplated her newfound immortality as she snacked on her third slice of cake.

“Oh by the holy goddess Danu! Stop giving her so much _cake,_ my seafoam.”

Finvarra laughed, the smell of saltwater overpowering the sweetness of her cake. “Oh come now, starlight, what's the harm in a little sugar?”

They proceeded then to have an absurdly pleasant argument that was more akin to polite bickering than anything she had ever seen two adults perform.

“Come along poppet, Rhiannon is going to start tearing out her hair if she has to wait any longer.”

Rosa got up, saying goodbye to the two royals, who paused their friendly argument to wish her well, with Una reminding her to return before sunset at the latest. Excited that her entire day was now free to explore, at least once she was done visiting Rhiannon’s aunt, she skipped along a path with Thimble, following after the speedy blonde fairy as she zipped about excitedly.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my auntie, Rosa, she is just an utter delight!”

They moved forward from carefully chaotic shrubs to taller and taller trees, the canopy slowly getting farther and farther from the ground till they reached hulking giants big enough to carve large houses into, sporting massive caverns she could walk around in, but looked miniscule in comparison to the tree’s overall size.

They reached a small clearing, and that's when she saw the first fairy colony.

* * *

Hermione woke to a bang, followed by a woman’s screaming. Groaning quietly, she buried deeper into her douviet, trying to block out the yells as they wafted up the stairs and into her room. Her shadow enveloped her from all directions, a comforting hum vibrating through the small space. She heard a door slam, and the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. Holding her breath, Hermione felt her shadow expand, covering more and more space. The door flew open, and the whisper of a warning breezed through the air as her father yelled, the sound of him falling backwards almost drowning out the familiar _slam_ of her door slamming shut.

 _“Thank you.”_ She whispered, pulling the blankets back and scrambling off of the bed, rushing to her closet and pulling out the first outfit she saw. Getting dressed, Hermione stuffed her satchel with enough pocket money for lunch and a few bottles of water, as well as a few books to pass the time. If she went to the library, she could probably spend the rest of the day there, but the librarian would annoy her periodically about where her parents were. If push came to shove, there was a small taco stand only a block from the library, and the vendor, Andres, never asked any questions about her parents.

She liked Andres, he minded his own business. 

Cracking the window over her bed open, she scrambled over the edge before her dad decided to try getting in her room again, closing it firmly behind her. Hopping down into the rose bushes below, Hermione sprinted out of the yard and down the street, dodging a lady walking her dog and a few joggers as she went.

It was a short run to the library, but Hermione found with frustration that it was closed for another hour. Turning slightly, she took off in a different direction, weaving through the crowds of pedestrians on her way to the taco stand. If she needed an hour to kill, she could probably spend it up on breakfast tacos.

Turning a corner, she ran head first into someone, tripping over her feet as she did. A hand reached out to steady her, and she whipped her head up to see a goth-like man glaring down at her. He had a hooked nose and a particularly nasty look on his face, glaring down at her as if she was a bug underfoot. She and her shadow immediately labeled him a threat.

“Let go.”

Her voice was firm, and the man sneered menacingly down at her, appearing about to say something cruel. Acting on instinct, she kicked him _hard_ in the shin as her shadow surged forward and threw him backwards. As he fell to the pavement, she took the chance to run off again, heading straight for the taco stand and metaphorical safety.

Quick as a viper, she scrambled around the cart and into the shadowy section where the steel exterior met the brick of the building behind it, her shadow enveloping her body and rendering her invisible.

Holding her breath, Hermione waited for the man to come around the bend, but when several minutes past and he was nowhere to be seen, she peered cautiously out of her hiding spot. Finding nothing but the usual pedestrians, Hermione considered it safe to come out and crept back around to the front of the cart, peering up at Andres with careful eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "The usual?"

"Yes please."

* * *

Severus Snape was having an incredibly bad day.

Not only had the Potter brat gone off and gotten herself kidnapped, but Dumbledore seemed insistent on making Severus his own personal errand boy. Things only got worse when some little brat had ran right into him, glaring at him as if seeing something particularly nasty smeared across the concrete.

The girl was about 75% hair, and despite her relatively pitiful appearance, the aura she gave off set Snape on edge. There was something _black_ in that girl, completely unlike dark magic as he knew it. He had read about black magic of course, every up and coming dark wizard was practically required to study the demonic arts, but you were never supposed to actually _use_ it, that was a one way ticket to eternal damnation. As it was, the frazzle-haired muggle girl he currently had a grip on was absolutely _drenched_ in demonic, black magic-and it was beginning to make him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

“Let go.”

The magic seemed inherently tied to her shadow, as it was concentrated in the dark recesses around her feet. He narrowed his eyes, about to question the girl when she pulled her leg back and kicked him _hard_ in the shin. As Snape went down, the black magic suddenly surged forward and slammed full force into his chest, taking the air out of his lungs and leaching away at his magical reserves. It was _sucking the energy out of him._

Before he could even blink, the girl was gone and he felt about to pass out, lying on the pavement in a heap. Various muggles grabbed at his arms and tried to ask if he was alright, but Snape was far more focused on the oddity he had just ran into, trying to dissect the thirty second confrontation for any clues as to just what on circe’s green earth he had knocked into.

Staggering to his feet, Severus waved off the concerned muggles and hobbled into the nearest alley, apparating to hogsmeade as soon as he could. This would take careful research and a letter or two to old acquaintances to figure out.

Dumbledore could eat a boot, Severus had more important things to do now.

* * *

Rosa watched hundreds of little fairies float about, chatting and twirling and generally being wonderful little creatures.

Thimble leaned up to her ear, speaking softly as she explained the little town. “This is the closest colony to the palace, and one of the oldest, as most of the younger fae are born and live in the outer woods. We’re still technically still in the palace at the moment, but since the castle’s garden is connected by fairy rings to the real forest, it is apparently easier to just go this way. We’ll pass by a few other smaller villages like this one before we make it to Holly Hole.”

“Holly Hole?”

“The ring that connects us to Airedale, which is the fairy city Rhiannon’s aunt lives.”

Rosa made an ‘ohhh’ noise, glancing around at the cluster of massive trees with undisguised awe. There were houses carved from the bark, decorated in moss and pebbles and flowers, there were mushrooms large enough for three fairies to sit on comfortably, and vines stretching from tree to tree for those without wings to walk across. Huge sunflowers that actually shone with light were situated so that, once the sun set, the area would still be well lit. As they passed through the area, fairies milling about turned to watch her curiously. An older looking one waved kindly at her, and Rosa waved back without a second thought.

“Rosa dear, don’t dilly dally!”

Speeding up incrementally, she matched Rhiannon’s pace, continuing through and past the colony. Ten more minutes and a few small settlements later, the little group came upon a ring of glowing light inset in a large stone. The stone itself was flat and buried in the earth, appearing to be a massive stepping stone randomly placed in the forest.

“I thought fairy rings were circles of mushrooms in the ground?”

Thimble giggled, “in the mortal realm maybe, but not here.”

Nodding, Rosa stepped forward and into the circle, her vision being overtaken by white light. Midstride, the temperature and humidity in the air seemed to shift, and she suddenly found herself in a completely different place.

Rhiannon zipped through as well, looking out proudly at the massive tree before them.

“Welcome to Airedale!”

Airedale was one colony cut into the bark of a truly _colossal_ tree. It was so unbelievably huge that large parts of the colony were on the exposed roots, which appeared to be about fifty feet tall, with the trunk of the tree so large that she couldn’t tell where it started to curve. Apparently, the tree itself was home to twenty seven different fairy towns, though Airedale was by far the largest.

“Rosa, you need to be small for this next part.” Thimble reminded her with a sigh, as she removed herself from Rosa’s shoulder. Reaching down, the girl grasped the golden amulet around her next, slightly confused with what to do with it. Going on instinct, she closed her eyes and thought _‘I want to be small like Thimble’_ wishing it with all her might. Something seemed to surge from the necklace, and she felt the dirt below her shift strangely. Opening her eyes, Rosa found herself kneeling in the soft moss underfoot. 

“Oh pity, you didn’t grow wings.”

Looking up, she was shocked when a much larger Thimble touched down next to her, now towering over the small girl.

“She’s tiny enough now that you can carry her, you lazy lump.”

Rhiannon was still fluttering in the air, yelling down from high above them. Thimble shrugged, and grasped the still shocked Rosa underneath her armpits and lifted her up, settling the little girl on her hip.

“Comfy?”

She nodded with a giggle, watching with wide eyes as they lifted off of the ground and started moving to Airedale, which looked even more impressive now that she was at the proper size. With towering buildings expertly carved from the root, mossy pebbles arranged as a road from place to place, and flowers blooming from crevices in the root, the town appeared a stunning display of what magic could be capable of.

They zipped through streets lined with sprouts and little petals, colorful arrays not unlike the first colonies sunflowers, though these seemed more focused in one area. Rosa quickly found herself set down in front of a comfy cottage-like structure, with different types of fungi growing from little planters like flowers would. Rhiannon knocked excitedly, trying to peer through a window-like crack in the wood.

“Come in dearies!”

She was quickly shepherded into the home, taking in everything with wide eyes. The furniture was, peculiarly, different types of fungus. What she assumed to be a table and chairs were all made of toad-stool, with the table a much larger one in comparison to the chairs. A few glowing buds of flowers lit up most of the interior, and the large carved windows did the rest.

“You must be Rosa then dear? Hm… you’re much smaller than I remember mortals being.”

Rhiannon’s auntie appeared about middle-aged, which was strange as all the fae she encountered thus far had been either old and frail or young adults, she decided to not be rude by bringing it up.

“Yes ma’am, I'm usually a lot bigger.”

The woman nodded, and introduced herself as Orla as she sat a little acorn cup in front of Rosa. She took a tentative sip, it tasted of honey but had the consistency of water, rather good really.

“Now that we’re all settled, Ree over here was telling me how you didn't know much about fae history?”

Thimble giggled at the nickname as Rhiannon glaired, Rosa ignored both of them and nodded politely.

“Well dearie, I’m rather old-as you can see-so I'm sure that I could easily answer any questions you have…?”

“Yes please!”

And so she sat, ignoring the two bickering fairies as she listened, enraptured, as Orla spoke of ancient battles and queens of old. Listened as she spoke of the old ways and the magic of Danu and the breath of the earth. Listened to stories that were told to Orla by fae far older than she, of ancients so ancient that their names had been all but forgotten, even in the ever older world that they lived. Of golden statues that melted down to be turned to embellished crowns and of stolen children much like herself. Of Morgan Le’Fay and Avalon, and of Arthur and Merlin and the fairy-raised children of old, and how every last stolen child returned to the mortal world to change it irrevocably, and how she was destined to do the same.

Of prophecy and of war, and of fate and of peace. Orla spoke, and Rosa listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep putting off a Draco POV in favor of Hermione making problems, oh well, he'll come up eventually :P


	4. Of Sunrises and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosa Potter settles into her new life as the waves of fate bend and shift.

**Lucius,**

**May I first send my condolences to you and dear Narcissa for the trouble I have caused, it was not my intention to fuel an interest in potions within Draco, and I certainly could not have known that he would take that interest and accidentally blow up the west wing of Malfoy manor with it. That is to say, I take no blame for this particular situation regardless.**

**However, this is not the reason I write to you, as while I am moderately apologetic of the mess that I indirectly caused, there is a mystery that I stumbled upon in muggle London that requires the assistance of your library and perhaps the painting of your grandfather.**

**You see, upon a request from the headmaster, I had taken to northern London to retrieve a book that he had somehow misplaced. On my short walk to the designated book store, I was bowled over by a young muggleborn girl, who for all intents and purposes absolutely dripped with black magic. If I was a fool I could even say that a demonic entity had latched onto her soul, but even having witnessed the child I am cautious in considering such a thing. However, I am not so idiotic to believe that this girl was truly muggleborn in any capacity, and wish to consult your library and ancestors for the possibility of this girl being a descendant of one of your grandfather's more… demonic experiments.**

**All the best, Severus Snape.**

**P.S. Stop raiding my home’s liquor cabinet you bastard. Yes, I know that it's you who’s doing it and if you truly want muggle alcohol that badly just bloody buy some yourself.**

Snape sighed, setting down his quill as he placed the parchment to the side of his desk to dry. He had heard whispers of Septimus Malfoy’s experiments during the Global Wizarding War, of the squibs he had tied up in his basement and ran tests on. The world had been so preoccupied with destruction that no one could notice (or care about) the monstrous creations he spawned into the world. ‘Putting magic back into the disgraced’ he had called it, attempting all sorts of twisted methods in the hopes of giving squibs the ability to produce magic. One of these methods had, quite naturally, been black magic. Snape only somewhat believed the girl could be the descendant of one such experiment, as many of the poor souls had been killed once the experiments proved to not bear fruit. However, it was the most likely hypothesis, and much more likely than the child having somehow come across black magic texts and actually managed to successfully perform a demonic summoning.

“Ah! Severus? I thought Albus had sent you on an errand?”

Snape glanced up to see Minerva McGonagall standing in the door of his office, quite obviously having been about to do some snooping.

“Minerva… If you would designate to not steal from my liquor cabinet like a common peasant, I would be truly indebted to you.”

“Indebted enough to let me have the last bottle of 1897 brandy?”

“No.”

The witch harumped sadly, “a pity, truly Severus. Now, why aren't you off in London?”

Snape considered what to tell the woman. On one hand, it might help for the teachers of the school to know if there was a potential hiccup in a future student, but in all honesty the girl would likely get nothing but a one way trip to Azkaban simply for existing. Considering the rather obvious aura of black magic that surrounded her, as well for the fact that she was most likely to be perceived as a muggleborn, the child would be lucky to even step foot onto the Hogwarts express without getting carted off to a ministry waiting cell to await a speedy and corrupt trial. She wouldn't last to October in Azkaban either, rather sad really. 

Regardless of if the girl would even manage to get to Hogwarts in time to get sorted, she still would be either forced into Azkaban to rot or smuggled into a testing lab to be dissected. Turning his attention back to the animagus, he shrugged elegantly and replied with his typical snark.

“For the simple fact that I am not paid enough.”

Minerva couldn't very well argue with that, but stuck around to make small talk for another ten minutes before bolting, nabbed a bottle of scotch from his liquor cabinet and scrambling out of the door in cat form, the small glass bottle held firmly in her devious little cat mouth. Severus attempted to run after her, but was much less loved by gravity and instead fell quite spectacularly onto his face, lying on the cold stone in a heap as his nose throbbed from the impact.

* * *

**One Month Later:**

Rosa found herself quickly settling into her life in the capital city of Elphame, realizing with utter delight that the castle itself _was_ the capital, with each floor being its own little pocket dimension filled with different species of fae. In the lower levels deep underground, there were lakes of magma and giant creatures made of melting rock and fire, swinging massive hammers against obstructions and rolling through the molten rock. The higher levels appeared to be almost completely sky and floating earth, where winged women flew from perch to perch with bird-like wings, screeching and diving and playing in the sky.

Orla, being a scholar and wonderful company, had been invited over on several occasions for the express opportunity of Rosa learning more about her new home. Every time the fairy visited, she left the little girl with wars and battles and long lost countries swimming through her head, her imagination spinning through possibility after endless possibility. Many of the battles of old had been completely forgotten besides their names, and were so ancient that how they were fought and why had been completely removed from the conscience of the fighters. There were so few queens and kings over the years, and the infinitely fascinating thing was that regardless of how old the faerie realm may be, the creatures that inhabited it were immortal. Fae could be killed certainly, and obviously had or the old queens would still be ruling over their land, but life was not bogged down by thoughts of death. With this strange loss in the mortal feverity in which mortals live, the fae instead drifted through days unbound to the hurry in which humans were tethered to. It was fascinating for her to watch, and the little girl contemplated how long it would take her to become the same. To become unbound, floating through each day as if on a passing breeze.

She wasn't just learning about history however, and was also branching off into languages and their uses. As Rosa had quickly realized through her conversations with Orla, there were two very different branches of speech in the faerie realm, and both of them had very different uses. One used for the express use of spells and enchantments only, and another for everyday communication. The Old Tongue, as it was called, is the language spoken by the living earth, or the Mother, and her magic. Whenever communing with the gods or with Mother, fae would speak the Old Tongue, but wouldn’t ever dare to use it in normal conversation unless teaching it to someone who wasn't yet fluent. The second language was commonly spoken, and was actually one that was considered the root language of elves, goblins, and other magical creatures. Called sidithe, the language seemed to be the magical creatures’ version of latin (excluding the fact that Latin was considered a dead language), as a wide variety of european magical languages are based on it. Much like how French, Spanish, English, and various other languages were called ‘love languages’ due to their roots in latin and greek. 

As it was, if she was able to learn sidithe, she would most likely be able to learn the other magical languages as well and in half the time. Rosa had heard Orla speak various magical languages over the week, and while she couldn't find a single resemblance between any of them, everyone she spoke to on the topic seemed to agree that the magic behind the language was what tied all of its descendants together. She had often requested either Rhiannon or Thimble to teach her Sidithe, believing that since they were always around her anyway it would be most convenient. Sadly though, neither of them considered it their job to do so, and simply told her to ask the queen or king if they would be willing. As it was, Rosa didn't feel that the royals would have the time to teach her, and settled to attempt self study instead.

It wasn't even that she wanted to fit in better with the fae, as everyone seemed to be able to speak english just fine and had no problems making that change to benefit her, it was the simple fact that the language sounded utterly breathtaking, and Rosa wanted to be able to speak it for the simple pleasure of hearing it whenever she liked. Sadly though, while the palace’s library held an impressive number of books for writing and reading in both languages, she wasn't able to find anything for pronunciation or proper grammar. Sure, she was now quite proficient in understanding what various signs said or the few books that were not able to be translated into english were about, but she wanted to _speak_ the language, not just read it.

Sighing lightly, Rosa hopped along the stepping stones in her room, twirling in the low light of dawn. She had risen early, wanting more than anything to watch her room slowly crawl from dimly lit darkness to the warm tones of a colorful sunrise. Almost in spite of herself, she had also dressed for the occasion, twirling about in a breezy peach dress with incredibly poofy sleeves that still managed to be comfortable despite the rufles. Luckily for her, nothing in her wardrobe seemed to go any longer than her ankles, as she would likely have a considerably difficult time running and jumping and climbing if she had to wear something that trailed the floor like Una always seemed to do.

Hopping up on a mossy rock, Rosa lifted herself onto a low-hanging branch, grappling against gravity as she hooked her feet around the wet bark. For some reason, it had actually rained in her room last night, but she had woken to strangely dry sheets and pleasantly cool droplets of dew coating her eyelashes, instead of being soaked to the bone. Rosa highly suspected that Thimble had tried to prank her, but had been thwarted once again by the dotting Rhiannon.

“Hup-!”

Settling along the branch, Rosa pat herself down proudly, looking out at her little kingdom with glee. The sunrise was set to happen any second, and from her vantage point she would be able to see the light slowly climb over the mountains to the east. With wide eyes trained onto the exact spot that she had calculated the sun would be in, Rosa listened to dew drip from nearby leaves as she contemplated all she had learned about fae magics.

She had noticed one day, while listening intently to Finvarra as he ranted on about the medical applications of belladonna flower, that something about herself was changing. It was a subtle shift, one that she almost passed off as an invisible wind, but she started to contemplate what it could be as the feeling continued to persist. It felt like… flowers blooming in her chest, roots wrapping around her heart and sending tingles of electricity through her. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just a confusing one.

“Fin?”

The king stopped speaking, the waving hand motions he had been making halting as well. “Hm?”

“My heart feels weird.”

The king appeared rather puzzled, reaching across the mahogany desk to grab a large, clear glowing gem off of it as he observed her with concerned eyes. 

“Well that's moderately worrying, do you mind holding onto this?”

Trusting the man, she grasped both hands around the stone, immediately feeling a soothing magic wash over her. Relaxing her shoulders slightly, Rosa watched with curiosity as the dull glow turned from a pure white to soothing green, becoming considerably brighter as well.

“Well. Isn't that interesting.”

She glanced up questioningly, watching the king as he poked the crystal curiously.

“What is it?”

His ocean eyes locked onto her mossy green ones, a slight smile splashed across his cheeks.

“It seems that your magical core is developing to suit fae magics as well as mortal ones.”

The admission had caused her to question him thoroughly on exactly what that meant, and Rosa had learned with nothing short of awe that, as she was a fae in all but blood, her magic was altering itself to reflect that.

“It is actually quite uncommon for such a thing to happen, as the last mortal born child to ever successfully alter their magic to suit both human and fae magics had been Morgan Le’Fay herself.”

Una had been over the moon when she learned of Rosa’s changing magic, picking the little girl up and twirling her around in the air, laughing with joy all the while. After setting her down though, the queen had immediately insisted that she learn everything about the application of fae magic before her core became altered enough for her to actually perform it.

It seemed that the magic was based entirely around someone’s magical core, as each fae was capable of doing different things with the energy around them. As the Mother gave them their natural abilities in teleportation, form alteration, and a long list of other things, the fae had an advantage over most other magical creatures, being that they had the natural powers allotted to them and their own personal magic. A fae’s magic allowed them to control a specific skill set that she had actually been picking up on ever since she met the royals, and along with the Mother’s gifts they could use said powers however they pleased. 

Una had control over the sun, fire, and heat, capable of warming even the coldest of places and potentially burning everything to the ground if she chose to do so. Finvarra had control over water, all bodies and all forms of water were his domain. However, the king was far more interested in healing magics than anything else, and prefered to use his gifts to heal all mental and physical wounds instead of tampering down his wife’s ambient light.

Sadly, Rosa had yet to figure out just what kind of magic she could wield, or even if she could, and had felt quite grumpy at the idea of not being able to use any fae magics besides the ones given to her through her bond with the Mother. That was to say that her necklace had been doing most of the work in that department regardless, as she had yet been able to do anything without it, though Una insisted that she would be able to just as much as anyone else when she was older and her core became more defined.

“Rosa?”

She shook herself from her musings, looking down to find the faint outline of Thimble flying up to where she sat on the branch.

“I’m waiting for the sunrise.” She whispered, pointing to the sliver of light peeking cautiously over the distant mountains.

“Oh! May I join you?”

Rosa nodded, moving her untamable hair off of her left shoulder and making room for Thimble to rest against her warm skin. Looking back out at the view, Rosa let her breathing steady as the sun crept further over the snowy peaks. It was so different from the mortal realm’s sunrise, the star so far off into the distance almost appeared alive, just as the earth and rocks and water were. Perhaps that was why she had acclimated so quickly to her new home, every little thing was living in some respect, everything had personality and thoughts and dreams. The sun was always shy in the morning, and sluggish in the evening, but burning bright and cheery midday. The dirt hummed slow, silent tunes as she dug her toes into the topsoil. Rocks were silent protectors, always standing tall and imposing and promising to never falter as they stood watch. Rosa knew now why the castle was built from crystal, every precious gem was just as solid and fortified as the large stepping stones that littered her bedroom. Within the palace’s walls, she was safe from all attack, and nothing else could make her feel more secure and comforted.

“She's beautiful, this morning.”

The sun had become more confident with their eyes on her, and an inspiring array of reds and oranges and blues lit up the sky.

“She is.”

* * *

“DRACONIS LUCIUS MALFOY GET YOUR SORRY ARSE BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

A pale blond boy of eight years threw open the doors of the Malfoy library with a bang, sprinting off in the opposite direction as if the gates of hell had opened behind him. Considering that his irate mother was close on his heels, they might as well have. Turning a corner, Draco just barely managed to dodge his nanny as she shot off a stunner in an attempt to catch him, instead nearly hitting his mother as she rounded the bend after him.

“DRACO!”

He pressed on, sprinting past paintings of his Malfoy ancestors as they grumbled and griped about such a rambunctious child in the house. Truthfully, Draco was usually quite well behaved, but extenuating circumstances had presented themselves in the form of a five hour long lesson about _marriage._ Draco made a gagging noise as he ran, his mind focused entirely on getting out to the gardens before his mother or nanny could catch him.

“What on earth is going on-Draco!”

He nearly bowled over his father, scrambling across the ancient carpet as the man tried to grab his arm. Draco wasn't the best seeker on the little league’s british team for nothing, and dodged easily enough.

“Cissy, what on circe’s green earth is he doing-”

“Quiet dear-DRACONIS, CEASE THIS FOOLISHNESS IMMEDIATELY.”

He did not.

Bursting through the doors to the Malfoy gardens, Draco skipped two steps at a time and bolted down the immaculate path towards the quidditch pitch, hoping that if he had enough space between himself and the adults he could lift off of the ground on his broom and fly off to Blaise’s house for the afternoon, escaping talks of marriage and engagement contracts and stupid bloody _chivalry._

Sadly, it was not meant to be.

A hand wrapped firmly around the collar of his shirt, nearly choking him as his feet kept moving despite the fact that his upper body had been stopped dead. Kicking his legs up in the air, Draco attempted to dislodge himself from the resident gardener’s hands with little luck.

“Thank you, Boyd.”

The bulky man grunted, handing the still squirming Draco off to his quietly amused father, who kept a tight grasp on his wrist as the boy tried to pull away. The Lady Malfoy huffed, running her hands over her day robe in an unnecessary attempt to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Now Draco, I know that you find the idea of marriage to be a distant and unpleasant one, but even now you must prepare for the eventuality.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, just now realizing what the most recent attempted escape had been about.

“But girls are gross! Besides, Pansy looked like a dog, I don't want to marry anyone who looks like that!”

The Lord Malfoy appeared on the cusp of laughing, Narcissa raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow at the both of them.

“Draco, it isn't nice to say that about a girl, especially Miss. Parkinson. Besides, not all girls have... unfortunate noses like she does, I'm sure you can find a normal-nosed girl in no time.”

“Her ‘unfortunate’ nose is beside the point!”

He yanked at his arm with a groan, trying to dislodge himself from his father’s grasp with no avail. Harumping lightly, Draco allowed himself to be dragged back to the manor, already plotting his next escape attempt. He had almost managed to sneak off after blowing up the west wing, so perhaps another ‘accidental’ explosion was in order.

Digging in his heels, the Malfoy heir made a notable effort in being as annoying to his father as physically possible, groaning and whining and begging to be let go so he could fly around for a while. As the noise and groaning distracted the man, Draco leaned slightly to the right and managed to nab a leaf off of a nearby plant, a very particular plant whose leaves tended to react quite… explosively with a cure for boils potion. Slipping the leaf in his pocket as the whining raised in volume, Draco tampered down a smirk as he was pulled up the stairs leading back up into the dull life of Heir Malfoy, already assured that he could get away from the responsibilities that the title came with in due time.

After all, if his parents wanted him to behave like a prince, they shouldn’t have raised a slytherin.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore fell into his wingback chair with a sigh, gazing out unseeingly at his office with growing dread.

Rosa Potter was not in America, that much was obvious.

The expedition to the states had gone well at first, as New York had its fair share of crime rings and black market deals, and the Order had found several leads over the month that they combed the state. Sadly, every possible lead only turned up dead ends, and eventually they had to admit defeat.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, if the Potter heiress was not in America, that only left the rest of the world (excluding Europe, of course) that she could have gone. Sadly, only one of his trackers was still in use, which functioned to tell him if the girl had died somehow. The only reason it was still working was because it was the only one which had not gone off with the others nearly a month previous. It gave him hope that with the Order’s help he might be able to find her alive somewhere, though he severely doubted that she would be unhurt.

Sighing once more, he waved the elder wand in a circular motion around the desk drawer to his right, the lock popping open with a quiet click. Reaching inside, he pulled out the invisibility cloak and observed the shimmering fabric with a grimace. It had been his own morbid luck that the Potters had died while the cloak was still in his possession, though the blasted thing still fought against him tooth and nail. It seemed that the third hallow had been in the possession of the same bloodline for so long that it refused to work for anyone that did not have Potter blood coursing through their veins.

This was why Rosa Potter’s disappearance was so concerning.

He didn't have the resurrection stone currently, though he doubted that it would evade him for much longer, and the elder wand was already obedient if antsy. All he needed was to figure out how to get the cloak to obey him and then it was only a matter of time before he became Master of Death, and then there would be nothing to stop him from purging Britain of dark magic for good.

Albus set the cloak back into its oak prison, locking the drawer with a wave of his wand. For years had the world been swept up in the sinful temptation of dark magic, and for years had he fought to have it eradicated, to no avail. Gellert had been his awakening, the realization Albus needed to finally understand how twisted and cruel dark magic could truly be. It had poisoned his oldest friend-his lover-and had sunk it’s claws deep into wizardkind as well. 

Albus wished to utterly destroy it, and the hallows were the next step in gaining the ability to eradicate the disease that threatened everyone living, dead, and yet to be born. Rosa Potter was the linchpin that threatened to either lead or destroy his fight against the dark, and her utter reliance on him was a necessity that he sought to secure. It was unfortunate that the girl would have to grow up in such a stifled environment, but the continued survival of magic depended on her misery as a catalyst.

Setting his wand firmly onto his desk, Albus contemplated where he would send Order members to search for her next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than usual, but the next chapter is going to be more of a summary of events as we draw closer to Hogwarts.


	5. Rosa Potter: Missing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news of Rosa Potter's disappearance is broken to the public, and as Britain grapples with the shocking realization, Rosa dances under fairy lights and sleeping stars.

June crawled into July, the summer months bringing impossible to bear humidity down onto the citizens of England, forcing muggle and magical alike to flee inside to escape the horrid weather. Soon enough, it was Rosa Potter’s ninth birthday, and as the rest of the country celebrated her birth, the Order sank into poor spirits as the possibility of finding her became more and more distant. Albus Dumbledore had officially lost hope in his personal connections, having found nothing but dead ends everywhere he searched. The Order had traversed half the globe in search of the girl-who-lived, walking into dangerous territory and fighting through horrible people, only to come up empty handed. Dumbledore had even dipped into his personal vault in order to supply equipment that considerably sped up the process, but to no avail, as, for all intents and purposes, Rosa Potter seemed to have vanished right off the face of the earth. He had truly started to question if the girl was even still alive, starting to worry that the device proving that she hadn't died might just be faulty, and that he had truly had lost the one person that would have kept the entire boat afloat. Had he lost the game before it truly began?

“You must speak with Bagnold, Albus. I know you don't want this becoming public knowledge but it is becoming more and more obvious that we need government interference to find Rosalie.”

Minerva McGonagall’s eyes were piercing and accusatory as she stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and resolve unwavering. The woman was not-so-secretly blaming him for her goddaughters disappearance, and had been hounding him for years to bring the girl back to the magical world as it was. He sighed, rubbing his eyes from behind half-moon spectacles. His deputy was most certainly _not_ an impartial judge of this situation, but had yet to back down and likely never would.

“I worry, Minerva, that if the Ministry gets involved the perpetrators may go even further underground. We must execute stealth and caution when facing an unknown enemy”

Truthfully, it was difficult to say just who took the girl, as any Death Eater would have most certainly killed her the second they could, and he simply couldn’t comprehend why anyone else would bother with her. All descriptions he had gleaned about Rosa Potter had been describing a rambunctious, mud-caked child who preferred to sleep in the dirt than a bed, and terrorized the neighborhood children on the daily. Sure, if a magical person had somehow recognized her and decided to kidnap her, then that would make some sort of sense, but he highly doubted that any random magical British citizen would be flaunting through Surrey for any reason at all. If it was a foreigner who spotted her however, then there would be a worryingly large number of places she could have been taken to. The only problem was that the kidnapping was obviously pre-planned (considering how smoothly it was executed) and Albus couldn't figure out just who would take the girl _and_ keep her alive if that were the case.

The woman before him huffed, glancing angrily to the side before piercing him with her gaze once more. “Don't lie to me, I know you and I know your reasoning, you don't care if the perpetrators go further into hiding, you just want to keep this _quiet._ This is not about whether or not the ministry will be useful, Albus, it is about whether or not the public will know. And I understand-truly, I do-as the second that wizarding Britain catches wind of the bloody girl-who-lived getting kidnapped, they’ll descend onto each other like a pack of wolves. But really, if we ever hope to find her, we must first make certain that people know that she is missing!”

With a self righteous huff and nod, Minerva spun away, cape billowing angrily as she stormed out of his office. He watched her go with an expression of discontempt, pulling his spectacles from his face and setting them carefully onto the desk as he rubbed his tired eyes wearily. It was one thing to _say_ that he should go to the minister, and another entirely to actually do it. Fudge was a rich man’s politician, far more focused on climbing the metaphorical ladder than actually doing something of substance that might help the country. It was a downside of peacetime ministers, they were generally beloved but mostly useless.

Albus let out a long-suffering sigh, standing from his desk as he placed the spectacles back onto his nose. This was going to be a long conversation, of that he was certain, and one that he was sure to not enjoy in the slightest. Moving to the large, ornate fireplace opposite of him, Dumbledore reached for the floo powder, hesitating only for a moment before throwing a handful into the fire as he called out ‘minister’s office!’. There was a beat of silence, before Bagnold’s head appeared in the green flames.

“Dumbledore! What can I help you with, old chap?”

Albus grimaced at the familiar language, but pressed on.

“Millicent, I have information of dire importance to share with you. May I come through?”

* * *

Little feet slapped against cool stone, peals of young laughter wafting through breezy halls of crystal and light. Rosa Potter swung around a massive ball room, clutching onto Finvarra’s hands tightly as he twirled her around in circles, her poofy dress fluttering as she was lifted off the smooth stone beneath her feet. It was Rosa’s birthday, and she was officially nine years old.

She had started the day by sprinting into the queen and king’s chambers, jumping onto their bed and subsequently kneeing poor Fin in the stomach. After apologizing quite profusely to the wheezing-in-pain king, she exclaimed proudly that she was now nine years old, and since she was in Elphame instead of Surry and free of (most) binds that had once held her, she should now be allowed to have a birthday party.

Fae had, apparently, never quite understood (or seen any particular reason to have) birthday parties as they were known by humans, but both of her caretakers had readily agreed to have a banquet and cake and all those birthday things that she desired. So, after a breakfast of wild berries and tiny sandwiches, Rosa had dragged the confused but supportive royals around the capitol city for something of a day out, though (as Una had politely pointed out) they could really do that at any time.

“But it feels more special to go and do fun things on your birthday!” was Rosa’s firm response, as she gripped the woman’s silky skirt tightly, her owl eyes wide and pleading. While she had felt an almost immediate attachment to the two, and had grown particularly needy and clingy as she got closer to them, it had taken all of Una’s soft warmth and Finvarra’s gentleness for Rosa to feel even remotely comfortable with talking back to them-and she would only do it if she was feeling particularly strong about something. Because of this caution, the two seemed almost _giddy_ whenever she did manage to argue, as if the prospect of her disobeying excited them.

“Ahhh, yes that does make quite a bit of sense, mortals must celebrate their quickly nearing end in some manner. My apologies for the ignorance, little rose.”

So they spent the day traversing the many levels of Elphame city, occasionally buying a sparkly something here or a fancy do-dad there. It was a little odd having so many eyes watching her, as the queen and king drew in quite a bit of attention as is, but Rosa still found quite a bit of joy in the trip.

Once they were back to the palace proper however, Rosa was quickly outfitted in a poofy, fluffy gown with embroidered roses and vines and delightful little gems of gold and blue that shimmered in the sun. Her ankles got little anklets with tinkling bells on them, and Rosa skipped around gleefully for far longer than she would admit, just listening to the bells jingle pleasantly.

The banquet hall had been transformed from a long expanse of glittering crystal to something less… transparent, with the walls gaining the same opaqueness of the hall outside her bedroom. Despite saying that they would have a party, the celebration seemed to have veered quickly into a five person event, as Rosa was spun through the air by the king, jingling bells accompanying every hop and leap she made. Thimble and Rhiannon flitted around, playing some sort of tag or dancing or stealing candied fruits out of Una’s drink. Una herself swayed hypnotically to a silent tune, her gown a shining gold that glittered beautifully in the gentle light. And as the sun started to settle into her evening slumber, hundreds of fairies streamed into the ballroom, dancing and laughing and spinning through the air above and lighting up the room once more. It wasn’t long past that when Rosa slowly started to grow sleepy, and she quickly found herself cradled in warm arms as she was settled into bed, the sound of familiar humming lulling her to sleep.

“I hope you had a lovely day of birth, little rose.”

Cracking an eye open, she giggled up at Una’s slightly confused face. “It's called a birthday, Una.”

A cheeky wink. “Same thing.”

Rosa was about to argue, till her two fairy friends started to glow gently with light, and Una returned to her humming, petting Rosa’s loose hair gently as she was sung back into sleep.

* * *

**Rosa Potter: Missing!**

**This Monday marked the ninth birthday of Rosalie Euphemia Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, and the entire country once again celebrated the girl’s remarkable defeat of the most feared dark lord in recent history: He-who-shall-not-be-named. However, shocking news from the Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore, revealed that the Potter heiress had been kidnapped from her home in muggle Surrey not three months ago. It has been revealed by the Minister that the Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts had delegated to inform her of this troubling discovery as soon as he could, and the ministry had been privately searching for the missing girl these past months. However, when both private and public search parties were not able to find Rosa Potter, it was decided to make news of her disappearance public.**

**“It is a truly awful thing that has happened, the disappearance of such a pivotal figure and, in the end, an innocent child.” said Minister Millicent Bagnold, during an interview on Tuesday, “I cannot say the lengths at which the ministry is going to try and find poor Miss. Potter, but I assure the public that we have been working tirelessly these past three months in scouring not only Europe, but other countries as well. We are doing everything in our power to assure her eventual return home.”**

**It has been revealed that-on the request of the late Potters' wills-Albus Dumbledore kept close eyes on Heiress Potter as she grew up the past eight years, and in their memory the headmaster employed the use of various enchantments to keep her safe. When several failed simultaneously, he immediately went to the ministry in hopes of tracking down the perpetrators before it was too late. However, it appeared that the kidnappers had already fled the country and by extension Europe, as the enchanted devices revealed. Headmaster Dumbledore had this to say: “I knew the Potters very well, I have known three generations of the family, and taught two! I was so very excited to see Rosa Potter grow in Hogwarts, and had wished terribly that I could have been with her as she grew up from an infant to a girl as well, but... I felt that she should have been left away from all the hustle and bustle of politics till she was much, much older. It deeply saddens me to say that… well I feel that if I had kept less of a distance between me and her, then perhaps I would have been able to stop this before it could have ever happened.” Dumbledore notes that while he is heiress Potter’s magical guardian, the [undisclosed] family in which she has been living with was more than capable of caring for her.**

**As the ministry continues its search for the girl-who-lived, many holding seats on the wizengamot turn their focus to the future, and what should be done if she is indeed found. “It is obvious that whatever family she has been living with currently are far from proper caretakers for a child with such prestige. What kind of self-respecting wizards allow their charge to wander off and get snatched!” said Lord Parkinson to a Daily Prophet reporter, relaying his feelings on the matter after an emergency wizengamot session, which had been called to discuss heiress Potter and her disappearance. “It is my personal opinion that-once the child is returned unharmed to British soil-she is put into a proper wizarding family that is sure to raise her with the proper values.”**

**Others however, decided to focus outwards in regards to the kidnapping. Madam Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, had this to say on the subject: “It is unknown now what will happen once Rosa Potter is returned to her proper home, but what** **_is_ ** **known is that the perpetrators of this crime not only wanted to strike a blow against the British Isles, but to the world as a whole. The loss of a figure such as the girl-who-lived would be one felt through time, and not only would the end to such a prestigious and loved family like the Potters be something of significant and profound devastation, but the loss of an innocent child who has already done so much for us, would take our country to its knees.”**

**The ministry has requested that any sightings or activity that may lead to Rosa Potter’s whereabouts be reported at once, and the Daily Prophet humbly requests the same.**

**If you are out there, Miss. Potter, please know that we all are holding out for you, and hope that you will soon return to us soon.**

* * *

The first of August brought a tidal wave through Britain as the news broke. **Rosa Potter: Missing!** was splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet, and as the newspaper reached an all time high for sales in nearly a decade, the British populace flocked to the ministry in droves. Some demanded answers, finding the article on her disappearance far too vague, ‘there must be something more about this’ they yelled, ‘what aren’t you telling us!’. Others simply wished to report their sightings. A familiar head of black hair there, bright green eyes here, nothing of substance was shown but every report was taken in for careful consideration all the same.

The ministry was already a wreck regardless, with the auror department trying desperately to cobble together some sort of working case last minute as every politician in existence tried to save face, falling over themselves to give press conferences and empty platitudes. The minister for Magic herself was a wreck, holing up in her office to grapple together some sort of plan. There were speeches to be made of course, promises to be kept and people to pay handsomely, but everything was put on hold as Britain collapsed for a few days, grappling with the disappearance of an important icon so soon after the country-wide celebration in her honor.

The wizengamot itself was also busy at work, making fast strides to have the girl immediately placed in the most ‘suitable’ family for her, which (with his considerable sway in politics and even more considerable depth to his pockets) was quickly shaping up to be one Lord Lucius Malfoy, who worked feverishly for the rights to have her as his charge. However, many people fought heavily against his appointment, as his left forearm made the main argument against such a placement, so the wizengamot was something of a mess as well. After seven years of strained peace between the different sides, this kidnapping had demolished all tact and reasoning, as the once respectable and stern Lords and Ladies of the wizengamot threw petty insults and regurgitated long forgotten drama.

Bagnold herself was cycling through being absolutely furious at Dumbledore for keeping this secret for _three bloody months,_ and somewhat wishing the man had just never told her until the girl didn't show up for hogwarts. It was one thing to not know a child was missing for three years and being unable to find her, and a completely different one to realize that the girl-who-lived herself had been so obviously kidnapped three months prior and was most certainly still alive, waiting for rescue. It had sent the minister into a tizzy upon finding out, and had by extension nearly uprooted the ministry as she broke the news.

“I must do something...”

Millicent Bagnold was not a fool, she had been sworn into office during the height of the British Wizarding war, and had grappled with the Death Eater hunts and the trials all the same. She knew that this needed direct action to ever have a hope of settling down, and while she had been enjoying her time as a peace-time minister after the war settled down, she still remembered what had happened, how it all started in the first place, and knew that this couldn't possibly be some random kidnapping. Bagnold was not so foolish to believe that Rosa Potter had been taken by anyone _but_ death eaters, and knew immediately what she had to do.

* * *

Azkaban prison loomed far in the distance, the sky ever dreary and summer humidity near-suffocating. The triangular tower was designed with a hollowed out center, which allowed for the dementors to float easily to any floor they pleased, while the prisoners-if they escaped their cells that is-would be forced to run all the way down a few hundred sets of stairs to the bottom, depending on how high up they were. Because of this security tactic, the worst of the worse were higher and higher up in the looming prison.

Sirius Black’s cell nearly reached the heavens.

Millicent Bagnold held the thrice-damned paper in her hands, the headline of **Rosa Potter: Missing!** mocking her from where it was crumpled by her sweaty fingers. If there was anyone who might know where the girl had been taken, it would be the Dark Lord’s right hand himself.

Stumbling off of the rickety boat, the Minister and three aurors all marched hurriedly in a diamond formation to the large looming gates of Azkaban, the distant but assured presence of the dementors chilling them to their bones despite the heat. A stationed guard let them through the gates, and the minister was led to the door of an interrogation room, in which supposedly held one Sirius Black.

“Give me ten minutes before you open the door-he has magic nullifiers on, yes?”

Receiving a nod, Bagnold steadied herself, sucked in a nervous breath as she straighened out her robes and settled a stern expression on her face. The iron-plated metal door swung inward, revealing an emancipated and crazed man sitting half slumped in a chair. Stepping forward, the Minister heard the door close and latch behind her, trapping the two in the room with each other.

Sirius Black watched Bagnold with narrowed eyes, his hands and feet shackled with comically large cuffs engraved with detailed runes. Taking another gulp of air, she stormed forward and slammed the paper down onto the desk in front of the convict.

“Tell me, Black, who do you think has done this?”

Cold and empty eyes drifted down to the news article, sharpening instantly as the man read the headline. Bagnold jumped back in surprise as Black moved-quick as a viper-and snatched the paper up from where it lay, pressing his face close to the parchment as his eyes darted from line to line. As Bagnold waited for the ensuing response, she was shocked stiff as Sirius Black started to cry.

The man yelled out in what Millicent could only describe as agony, throwing the paper to the side as if it burned him and burying his face in dirtied hands.

“W-well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“SHUT UP!”

Black slammed his fists down onto the wooden table, choking back sobs as he slumped forward.

“Don't you dare-don't you monsters have any tact?” his voice broke, tears streaming down his dirty face as his hands clenched the parchment. “I will gladly take any punishment you feel free to give me, but please, _please,_ just tell me this isn't true.”

She took an unsteady step back, confusion bleeding into her expression as she watched the supposed murderer break down.

“TELL ME THIS ISN'T TRUE!”

“I cannot, Rosa Potter has been missing for three months.”

Sirius Black screamed, loud and angry as he yanked at his bonds pitifully.

“I'M GOING TO KILL THAT RAT! Where's Pettigrew, I know you have him-GIVE HIM TO ME!” He screamed out again, it was a truly harrowing sound, full of anguish and grief-as if his entire world was crashing down. Bagnold watched with wide eyes as aurors came steaming into the room, throwing out stunners in an attempt to sedate the man, who immediately slumped back onto the desk, magic nullifying cuffs pulsing in an attempt to stop some sort of magical outburst. 

“Minister? What should we do-merlin what even happened?”

She stood there, momentarily caught up in her confusion, before her brain sprang back into action.

“Take him back to his cell, I think there is something more here. Hell, double human security around his cell and keep the magic nullifiers on, I don't want the bastard trying something stupid.”

She watched then as Black’s prone form was then carried roughly from the room, brain working fast to try and piece together this new puzzle. As the large looming gaits closed soundly behind her as she exited the prison, the minister began to think.

Sirius Black appeared utterly _destroyed_ by the news that the daughter of the people he had set up to be killed was missing. Which was so utterly out of character that Bagnold had to step back and contemplate the man’s crimes, thinking over everything that she knew in regards to his case. There was no doubt that Sirius Black had killed those twelve muggles, he had admitted to it all of course as he was removed from that street and into Azkaban, but was the reason truly as simple as was thought?

She stopped, ice chilling her blood as she thought back to the man’s bare forearms. Not a dark mark in sight. 

“Ma'am?”

She started, glancing at the auror at her arm. “Oh! So sorry, I was miles away.”

She kept walking, mind running through all of her memories of the war and the extensive trials that came afterwards, remembering nothing of the Black heir’s trial. She began to sweat, the humidity and her own rising nervousness revealing itself physically.

Had they truly made such an incredibly damning mistake?

Of course… her eyebrows raised as an idea came to mind. If Sirius Black’s reaction to the news of his goddaughter’s kidnapping was to be believed, then there was the small possibility-just an incrementally miniscule possibility-that things went much deeper than was initially expected.

“You sir, Auror…”

“Jerkins, sir.”

“Ah yes, Auror Jerkins. Once we make landfall, I want you to find Amelia Bones for me, I need to discuss something of great import with her. I believe that we may have a clue as to what is going on with Rosa Potter.”

Auror Jerkins’ eyes widened, and he nodded quickly, head turning determinately back to front. Bagnold sighed, if she was right about this, then it was wholly possible that Rosa Potter might have been kidnapped by a dead man.

* * *

The Burrow was in a frenzy, with the youngest two children asking question after worried question about that morning's paper to their increasingly distressed mother. All of the Weasley children were in differing states of shock, with the analytical Percy burying himself in the paper in an attempt to gleam any new tidbits of knowledge that might have evaded his careful eyes the first eight times he had read it. Ron and Ginny sat next to their mother-one on either side-as she carefully explained the situation in a simplified sense for their younger minds to comprehend.

Missers Fred and George Weasley however, twin terrors of eleven years, sat in their room to share a hushed conversation away from prying eyes.

“The girl-who-lived has really gone and died?"

“She’s just missing you idiot.”

“For three whole months? I don't think she would be alive after all that time.”

“Yeah but Dumbledore had all those enchantment things on her, yea? He probably had one saying if she’s croaked or not.”

They looked at each other, contemplating this new sequence of events. See, the Weasley twins were far from stupid, and while they had yet to get wands or go to Hogwarts, the fated trip to Diagon Alley to get their school stuffs for their first year was looming ever closer, and they had yet to come to a decision about the future of their school career.

“Didn’t dad say Malfoy was beggin’ for custody?”

“Yea, makin’ a big fuss about it too.”

The boys were pranksters, of that there was no doubt, but they were also inventors-and had many ideas of infantile pranks that could be set and triggered without the need of a wand or magical knowledge. They were resourceful, and understood how people worked.

“Do you think they’ll find her?”

“Probably, didn’t mum say they had people searching the whole bloody globe for her? They've got to find her eventually.”

George nodded in agreement, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers as he thought. The twins had been long awaiting their first year, and had been planning and preparing for the day that they would get sorted into a house. They had a plan, and had been expecting to stick to it for years, ever since it was first conceived. George however, was having second thoughts.

“I don't think we should play it safe like we planned to, let's throw the whole plan out the window.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “Are you bloody bonkers mate? We've been planning to fool the hat since Percy told us about it three years ago!”

“I know that idiot but listen-mum and dad are in a tizzy over this girl-who-lived nonsense, and they already don't expect much of us, what's the harm of going against the curve?”

Fred raised an eyebrow, squinting at his brother in suspicion. “You don't really think they’ll be so distracted in a few months once this has all blown over and mum decides to disown us for ending up in slytherin?”

“She won't try to disown us-”

“Weasleys have been in Gryffindor since... forever! Now I know we don't fit that mold but bloody hell George, we’ve got to try.”

“Why should we?”

Fred started, blinking owlishly as if his brother had grown a second head. “Wot?”

George glared fiercely, his resolve bleeding through his expression and morphing it into something along the lines of constipation. “Why should we give a shite what our family is like? I couldn't care less about tradition! We live to make a mess of things, Fred, what's getting sorted into the ‘wrong’ house anything but another way to do just that!”

His brother appeared to be contemplating something rather heavily. “It won't be easy among the snakes, being blood traitors and all.”

“Then let's make a mess of that snobby lot too! I don't know about you Fred, but I don’t wanna get held back from doing what _I want_ because something as stupid as family tradition. This is our _chance.”_

The older twin looked at his brother with something akin to shock, before a grin broke out across his face.

“You're mental, you know that right?”

“What's that say about you then, eh?”

Fred laughed, “you know what? Screw it! Let's make a mess of things.”

They shook on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer authors note because while it is a shorter chapter it has a lot to say.
> 
> Minerva McGonagall: I would like to think that Minerva is Lily's favorite teacher, up there with Flitwick (because charms) so I expect that she had much to say in regards to the Potter's first child. I would also like to think that (since we get no mention of Lily's parents I can only assume they died sometime around when James' did as well) then Minerva took on a sort of motherly role during Lily's pregnancy, and could have contributed to the naming of the child, and subsequently become her godmother.
> 
> Rosalie Euphemia: I chose the full name Rosalie with the nickname of Rosa because of two main reasons: 1. Rosalie is a beautiful name that is also flower related, so I can allow myself to give her a really pretty name without feeling too guilty about making a name that isn't potentially canon for a female Potter child. 2. Euphemia is James' mother, enough said. There will be a scene later on in which Rosa actually learns of her full name, but that isn't till Hogwarts.
> 
> Millicent Bagnold: she explains this well enough herself, but really, the poor woman was sworn in in 1980, that is literally the height of Death Eater activity, she had to have gone through the shitter during that year and the years afterwards to cobble Britain back together again, do you expect me to believe she was just as incompetent as Fudge?
> 
> Weasley Twins: Okay, it has been my own personal headcanon that those two are more slytherin than any slytherin to ever slytherin, but because of that they absolutely could and DID trick the hat into placing them in griffindor. I mean really, you're welcome to argue on that point, but this is my fic and I'll make canon alterations if I want to :P (but really, this was done only because I want to see those two make messes in Slytherin, and they really should have gone there)


	6. Roots Deeper Than the Trees are Tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Women in power won't waste an hour.

The tap of sensible shoes against dark marble filled the ministry buildings atrium as Amelia Bones walked briskly along, her muggle business suit clashing aggressively against the gaudy magical robes of the wizards around her. Madam Bones had never been one for fitting in to the crowd, and had always made a statement with stylish muggle business suits and ‘scandalous’ pencil skirts. She was far from carefree however, and regardless of what the old stuffy wizards of the wizengamot wanted to say about her choice of dress, Amelia Bones ruled over the DMLE with an iron fist. 

Now, after having spoken to a young lad named Jerkins, she was on her way to the minister’s office, to speak with Millicent Bagnold about an apparent overstep by her predecessor, Bartemius Crouch Senior. Amelia stepped onto a lift, nodding once as the lift attendant questioned if she was up to see the Madam Bagnold. 

_This better be good, Mily._

The mess with Rosa Potter was enough for Amelia to be busy for the next few decades at the _least,_ considering that the girl could really be anywhere at this point, and there had yet to be even a blip of her whereabouts. She sighed, with her next few months looking to be filled with a considerable amount of overtime, Amelia wasn’t so sure she would be able to add another massive oversight to her plate.

_Albus Dumbledore better watch himself, this is bound to bite him in his wrinkly old ass._

In all honesty, when she had heard that not only was the girl-who-lived missing, but Dumbledore had taken a few liberties in deciding to keep it secret for _three bloody months,_ she had felt a nearly uncontrollable need to attack the bastard. Luckily for him, Amelia had more tact than that, and designed to write a passive aggressive letter instead.

“Level one.” said a disembodied voice, and she returned to her brisk walking pace upon exiting the lift, speeding down the plush purple carpets on a straight path towards the ministers office. As she passed his desk, she nodded swiftly at Bagnold’s secretary, who nodded back distractically while opening the door for her.

“Good evening, Mercer.”

“Good evening, Madam.”

Without pausing her stride, Amelia marched into the office, slowing to a stop as she found Millicent pouring over what had to be thousands upon thousands of parchment of paperwork.

“Busy day, Mily?”

“You don't know the half of it.” Millicent sighed tiredly, slouching back in her seat as Amelia waved her wand, removing a three foot tall stack of paperwork form an adjacent chair in order to sit down.

“Right then, what’s all the fuss about-excluding the Potter Kidnapping.”

“Blimey, they've already got a name for it?”

Amelia rolled her eyes, “did you expect any less?”

Millicent pulled her hair out of the frazzled bun it had been placed in, letting it fall free for a moment as she relaxed momentarily. “No, I suppose not.” Shuffling through a few of the pieces of parchment, she finally fell backwards with a huff, rubbing her face with a groan. “I went to see Sirius Black today, to try and figure out if he knows something.”

Amelia perked up with interest, she hadn’t known Black all that well in school, but she was in his division in the auror corps and they got along well enough then. Everyone in their year at Hogwarts talked constantly of his betrayal of the Potters, since it had been such an incredible shock to everyone that knew him. It was smart of the other woman to see if he had any information.

“...and?”

Millicent looked a decade older than she actually was in that moment. “I have reason to believe he might be innocent.”

Amelia blinked once, then a second time, gaping like a fish before her analytical brain kicked in and she started to try and figure out how the other minister could have possibly come to that conclusion.

“Explain it to me, linearly.”

Mily nodded, standing up and grabbing several pieces of parchment that appeared rather tea-stained. “On the 31st of October, 1981, Sirius Black was found after an explosion on a muggle street, screaming that it was ‘his fault’. Several feet away from him was the finger of a man who was eventually identified as Peter Pettegrew, who was presumed dead at the scene from the explosion. Black was then taken to Azkaban where he has yet to leave from once-”

“Well wait a moment, he left Azkaban for his trial, yes?”

Mily looked even more exhausted, “not to my knowledge, there had been so many trials during that time that I had just… oh I don't know-I suppose I just assumed that he had one, but I have no memory of such an event and there isn't a single piece of physical recordings of the trial or what had been the verdict.”

Amelia felt her blood turn to ice, if the heir of an ancient house like the Blacks hadn’t even had a trial… “this could have disastrous consequences if you’re right Mily. Keep going.” 

“Well, after I went to speak with him today, I gave him the paper and…”

“And?”

“And he reacted in a way that I didn't expect. He-he started crying, and seemed to be in a great deal of emotional distress over Rosa Potter’s disappearance. And then he started screaming at me to give him Pettigrew-”

“Peter Pettigrew?”

She nodded, ”Obviously I was horribly confused, he seemed to believe Pettigrew was still alive and in our custody, or that he was somehow responsible for the kidnapping.”

Amelia sat back and thought, thousands of possibilities running through her head. It was very possible that Sirius Black hadn’t gotten a trial, the panic that came out the post-war clean up assured that much, but she found it moderately less likely that Pettigrew was still alive. Hell, it was almost confirmed he was dead, all that was left of him was a finger-

_...wait._

“How much strength and precision is necessary for an explosion to completely decimate all but the finger of a victim?”

Millicent turned to her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Amelia stood, beginning to pace through the office, mind running a mile a minute as she began piecing together the puzzle. “There was-quite literally-nothing left of Pettigrew but his finger. No blood besides a splatter on the pavement and no little bits of skin or guts or, hell-any bone strewn about. How strong and concentrated does an explosion have to be to decimate everything but one finger, a finger that had little to no external injuries on it, and seemed to almost have been cut off?”

She stopped, turning to the minister with wide eyes, awaiting an answer from the quickly paling woman.

“It can't. Even a magical explosion cant be that precise. It's impossible.”

Amelia nodded, running a hand down her cheek, before slumping back down in her chair. “So, let's say that Pettigrew framed Black and made off with nothing but a missing finger, _how_ would that change the story as we know it?”

Bagnold reached for the incident report which made up the entirety of Sirius Black’s file, paging through what had happened with careful eyes. She paused, eyebrows reaching up to her hairline. 

“Muggle witnesses said that Pettigrew shouted something about Black betraying the Potters before the explosion happened, which is a huge sticking point against Black. Unless… do you reckon that’s a potential mode of framing him?”

Amelia nodded, thinking back to the night as best she could, she had been an auror then still, working twenty hour days sometimes in the mists of a horrible, bloodied war. She had watched as they brought him in, dirtied and bloodied and screaming that it was his fault. She hadn't thought he had done anything wrong at that moment-hadn’t even considered that he might have done something horrible. It seemed almost that he had had something of an emotional break-like something incredibly traumatic had happened and he just… shut down. It wasn't till later, when she heard what had happened in full, that she drew the conclusion that he had just gone mad and left it at that.

_Fools, the lot of us._

“This is my hypothesis.” she started, looking off in the middle distance as she made a mental image of the confrontation in her mind. “Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew meet on a muggle street, an argument over the attack on the Potters ensues. Shortly before the explosion, Pettigrew yells out that Black did it, and loses his finger somehow in the process, and escapes somehow-no doubt during the confusion created by the explosion.” She stopped for a moment, thinking back to her hogwarts years and a particular charms class, and leapt to her feet. “Pettigrew was incredible at explosives! I remember that all through third year charms, every single day without fail he would explode something, it would be easy for him to create such a massive explosion while escaping unharmed, he perfected his explosions in fifth year at the latest!” she started to pace again, thinking back to that horrible, incredible day with clarity. “Potter and Black were insanely close, practically brothers, it makes so little _sense_ for him to betray those two, which was why I didn't even consider it a possibility as they brought him in. I had just figured he was having an emotional break-” she gasped “-because he was! James Potter's parents practically raised him-I remember rumors that he had been kicked out and went to live with them for the summers-and they died the year Rosalie was born, and then his best friend and his wife die? Of course he was having an emotional breakdown, it makes perfect sense!”

Bagnold was writing down her rant as fast as she could, trying to get it all down for the inquest that was sure to happen, Amelia took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

“So, Sirius Black is distraught after the death of his best friend and his wife, and goes to find the secret keeper-who has to be Pettigrew in this scenario-to exact vengeance or some such tosh. Pettigrew blows up the street, gets his finger cut off in the process-”

“Who’s to say he didn’t cut it off himself?” Millicent interrupted, still writing as fast as she could. Amelia thought about it, the finger being there had certainly led to Black’s incarceration, perhaps in leaving some sort of evidence of his ‘destruction’, Pettigrew thought it would be easier for the DMLE to write Black off as the perpetrator? 

“Good point. So, Pettigrew cuts off his finger and explodes the street, Black is left dazed and half insane with grief, screaming that it was all his fault right as the aurors show up.”

Millicent winced, “paints an awfully suspicious picture of him.”

Amelia agreed, “this is what I say: we need to interview Black to be absolutely sure-this is just a hypothesis after all-and we both have the credentials to do that right this minute, Madam Minister.”

Bagnold smiled, waving her wand and sending all the thousands of scattered parchment back to where they came.

“So, let's not waste another hour on hypotheticals, we go right back to the source.”

“I'll tell Mercer to cancel the next hour.”

Amelia shook her head, “make it three, we want to be thorough.”

“Fair enough.”

The two women sped out of the office, Millicent giving the word to Mercer to cancel the rest of the day, and to send word to Azkaban about their arrival. Mercer, being a good bloke and used to the occasional upheaval (especially over the past few days) simply nodded and started writing out a letter.

* * *

A symphony of birdsong nearly drowned out the melodic humming that came from Una, the elegant oeuvre of song passed down generations overshadowing the gentle crooning of the fae queen. Rosa sat in the middle of a stream, the water slipping past her in a rush to the rapids several meters away. It was icy, crashing against her back as it pushed to get to its destination as fast as it could. She was cross legged, the bracing water coming just up to her waist in the shallower section she sat in. 

Una’s humming continued, the woman harmonizing with the birds as they reached a crescendo, the sound of rushing water and the distant slap of rapids against rock creating a subtle base to the melody. She breathed in, tasting the fresh air as water splashed against her cheeks, eyes shut lightly in cheeky defiance to the vibrant sun on the horizon. 

It was gentle there, but chaotic, a never ending amount of sounds and feelings and infinite eventualities all converging into a beautifully serene moment. 

Rosa took another breath.

There were rocks under her, stones that had been placed there eons ago by the Mother herself, rocks that had been since then polished down to a manufactured smoothness by the hurried rush of the stream, which had also been there for eons. Underneath the stones was earth, pulsing with the Mother’s magic, seeped with sluggish water that had escaped the tribulations of its speedy brethren. In that earth were ancient roots, connecting up to towering trees that had been there for-perhaps not eons, but for much longer than she had. The roots had sunk into the soil before the country of Britain had ever been conceived, before the first humans traveled through Africa and across the Nile Valley some 125,000 years ago, before the magic of mortal earth had become tamed and stagnant. The trees sucking up the sluggish water had stood there on the banks of that stream long before her mortal earth became bare of magic in its soil, before Una had burst forth from her mother’s womb, before the sun had opened her eyes to gaze upon the glowing babe that would become the last High Queen of Elphame.

Una hummed, the birds sand, water rushed past, and Rosa was one with the cycle.

She took another breath, calling to the Mother for her magic to reach up from the sluggish soil and encompass her, requesting the magic of the earth aid her in life and eternity and the infinitality of eternity. Something curled around her ankle, and the spell was broken.

“Ah-!”

She slipped backwards on her butt, her back splashing into the water with a _slap._

“Oh dear.”

“Darn it!”

Una rose from the mossy earth she sat on, tip toeing through the green earth on a path towards the slippery banks. “Did something distract you, little rose?”

Grumbling, Rosa looked down at what had wrapped around her ankle, seeing a root waving along in the rushing water. Curiously, she reached out to it, grasping the soft wood in her hand. She gasped as it wrapped around her little fingers as if shaking her hand, and proceeded to fall backwards in shock once again.

“Goodness! Rosa? Little rose, are you okay?”

“It's a root! A root grabbed my ankle!”

Slipping across the rockbed, Rosa stumbled over to her adoptive mother, who clapped her hands excitedly, reaching out to help the little girl out of the chilly stream.

“Oh that's wonderful dear, would you like to try again on land?”

Rosa nodded, determined to get a handle on her new ability. She had been brought out to this stream every day for a few hours to meditate, as it was said to speed along the process of finding your specific magic, and it had actually worked! The idea was to sit in a place that combined elements from both of your parents to allow a closer feeling to the Mother, so that she will feel more inclined to reach up and connect you further to herself. Of course, Rosa didn't have any biological parents, so she chose the elements of Una and Fin instead, which sent the both of them into emotional fits. It worked though, and she sat in the middle of a speedy stream that sat perfectly aligned with the blazing sun on the cusp of a beautiful waterfall, which in turn sat on the outer edges of the eighty ninth floor of Elphame. 

She sat there and meditated every day since her altering magical core was discovered, and every day without fail she had gotten closer and closer to the Mother and the earth magic that encompassed every little thing. It had been like opening her eyes for the first time, when the Mother first brushed the earth’s magic against her core, and the entire world seemed to open up to her in a wondrous array of new senses. Before, she had been able to tell that the sun seemed brighter than the one in the mortal realm, but afterwards she could _feel_ the morning star as she woke and rose up into the air at dawn each day. _Everything_ was alive, and now she could experience the feeling of the earth as it pulsed upwards in greeting as she danced in fields of wildflowers, the slow breathing of ancient trees as she brushed a hand across their scarred trunks, every little thing breathed with emotion and life and little Rosa Potter was a part of it. It was breathtaking in its sublimity, but calming in its congeniality, and Rosa couldn't comprehend a life without it anymore.

She closed her eyes, standing now on the mossy earth and attempting once again to reach out to grasp the familiar magic of the Mother in both hands. Instead though, she felt a different magic, one that was both alien and familiar as it seemed almost to surge out of _her,_ growing and sinking into the earth where it grabbed the roots of the ancient trees around her and connected to the similar magic of the massive sequoias.

Rosa took a deep breath, and breathed evenly with the forest.

“By the good goddess Danu.” She felt more so than heard the breathy whisper from Una, her mind and magic too focused on connecting to every tree within reach as she amassed a deeper connection with the underground network of roots. It was infinite, impossibly long and impossibly deep, she could never hope to encompass it all but wished horribly to at least try.

“Little rose, you must pace yourself, come back to me my sweet.” Rosa felt warmth on her shoulders and back, the sun shining down with gentle reverence. Reluctantly, she pulled the magic back into herself, sighing with disappointment at the loss of the stability the great hulking trees brought.

She opened her eyes, looking up to Una owlishly. “The roots go deeper than the trees go up.”

Una laughed, glowing in the midday sun as her eyes shone with excitement. 

“You, my little rose, are incredible.”

* * *

Sirius Black had acknowledged his sins and the damage that they caused, he had seen with his own eyes what begging for the rat to be made secret keeper had done to James and Lily. So he had allowed this to happen, had made peace with his penance and allowed the rightful punishment to fall onto his shoulders.

Azkaban was always cold, even smackdab in the middle of the dog days of summer as it was today. The sun never peaked out from behind the thick clouds, rain or mist or humidity clinging to his skin on the best of days. It was a truly harrowing place, but the people made it that much more unbearable.

His batshit insane cousin cackled from her place three cells away and one row down, her screams of ecstasy reverberating off the walls as she bashed her own head against the cold stone of her cell. He hoped she would crack her skull and die, it would do the whole word a favor.

Oh yes, he had made peace with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in that little cell, until Madam Minister Bagnold herself slapped that thrice-damned paper down in front of him.

**Rosa Potter: Missing!**

The words mocked him even now, hours since he had fist seen them shouted across the Daily Prophet paper. He was thinking of her even more now-now that he knew she was gone. He kept thinking of the memory of seeing little Rosalie crying horribly over her mother’s corpse as a jagged and bloodied gash raced down her face. The poor girl had been seemingly sliced from forehead to lip, a thunderbolt of agony racing down that otherwise perfect face. He had pulled her from the wreckage and cleaned the wound best he could, suturing the worst of it so that she didn’t bleed out. Sirius remembered worrying what people would think of her, having such a profound injury slashed down her face, as if Zeus himself had struck her down. It seemed so silly now, worrying about a monstrous curse scar marring the face of an innocent child that was practically dead as it was, gone to the world for far too long to be considered salvageable. He doubted the ministry could find her-if Dumbledore and the Order were helping and she was still lost to them he doubted she would be on earth much longer-would be gone up with her parents after whatever demons designed to take her saw fit to end her life as well.

To be forced to live with the knowledge of her disappearance, locked up in a hell on earth where the inmates wished him a painful death and the wardens wished him worse… it was agony beyond agony, and he couldn't even transform and escape, the magic nullifying cuffs cutting off his animagus abilities and locking him inside his human body till they were removed. Sirius wished, desperately, that he could throw himself from the tower into the rocky cliffs below, splattering against the cliffside like nothing more than a blip of red in the sea of blue.

“Alright Black, the minister has a few more questions for you.”

He didn't fight the aurors as they pulled him up, letting his legs dangle uselessly as they dragged him down the infinite flights of cold cobble, the moans and cries of passing prisoners like the buzz of a crowded street to his muddled ears. He was sat into a familiar chair, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles keeping him firmly locked in place as they were rebound to the chair. Sirius let it happen, looking down at the desk in which the fateful paper had been placed, remembering with vivid detail exactly what he had felt when he read the headline.

**Rosa Potter: Missing!**

A door slammed open, and the sound of clicking shoes against the stone made his head tilt upwards to meet the eyes of one Amelia Bones.

“Evening Black, I see you haven't aged a day since graduation.”

He tried to chuckle, it came out as a cough. “And you’ve aged three decades, eh Bones? Gotta say, you’re really living up to the name.”

“You may not know this Black, but I've been appointed as head of the DMLE some two years ago, I'd say I deserve more respect than you’re giving.”

He raised his eyebrows, “blast. Well, if I wasn't a convict and all I would have to pay you those three galleons I put in for the betting pool, sad to say I'm rather indisposed.”

The minister cleared her throat, setting down a muggle notepad on the old desk and sitting down in the seats allotted, Bones following suit. “Chit-chat isn't why we’re here however. Mr. Black, I apologize for cutting our last meeting so short.”

Sirius’ eyes glazed over a bit, “I believe that was me who cut it short actually, my apologies.”

She nodded, “well you seem more lucid than before, perhaps we can get some information out of that head of yours.”

His eyebrows knitted together, what was this woman on about? “What kind of information?”

Bones pulled out several sheets of parchment and a self writing quill, posing both expertly and in the fashion of someone who had interrogated many people in her life.

“Sirius Black, I want you to tell me everything about the night of October 31st, 1981. Don’t leave a single thing out, or you might just ruin what chance we have of finding Rosa Potter.”

And so he did, the day was seared into his memory after all, he knew it better than he knew anything else.

“It started at nine pm, I was off duty and had been on my way to my flat when I got a bad feeling about something and decided to go and see James and Lily. When I got there, the walls around the nursery were blown to hell and back and I could hear the sound of Rosa crying. I managed to ram the door open, as it had been blocked by some fallen ceiling, and made my way inside. The first thing I saw was-” he took a shuddering breath, despite how many times he relieved it, the feelings of agony never subsided. “-was James, lying on the stairs. I checked for a pulse but-but he was long gone... The crying came from the nursery, so I ran up and found Lily on the floor, little Rosa bawling her eyes out…” he paused, staring unseeingly off into the distance. There had been so much blood on her. “For a moment I thought her face had been nearly split in two, there was so much blood, but-but after I cleaned her up and tried as many healing charms as I could, the gash ended up being about a half inch deep across the deepest sections like her cheek and lip-monstrously painful for her I was certain, but at least her skull wasn’t still visible.” Both of the women shuddered slightly, thinking of what that must have appeared like. They had both read reports that she had a ‘lightning bolt shaped scar’ but had never realized the size or intensity of the laceration, it seemed that Black had fixed the worst of it as it was.

“I left the house then, when Hagrid showed up-”

“As in the groundskeeper at Hogwarts?” Bagnold interrupted, pausing her writing to look at him confusedly. He nodded in response.

“I regret handing her off to him, but he insisted that the headmaster had sent him along to fetch her.”

Bones clicked her tongue, “I’ve about had enough of that man’s meddling. Please continue.”

Sirius was confused with what she meant by that, but pressed on. “I handed her off and asked Hagrid to get her some medical treatment as soon as he could, and ran off to find Peter.”

“Why?”

“He was the secret keeper, so I knew that he had to have been the rat-”

“I knew it!”

Bones looked all too pleased with herself, nodding with a smile as the self-writing quill kept copying down what was being said. Bagnold motioned for him to continue.

“I found him on some muggle street, where he started yelling about how I had turned traitor. Before I could do so much as blink, the bastard used a cutting curse on his own finger and pointed his wand down to the pavement-I think there was a muggle gas line or some sort underneath-which then exploded. I don’t remember much after that, a lot of hands grabbing me and then I was thrown into my cell, where I stayed till you dragged me out this morning.”

The minister nodded, making a final note as Bones contemplated something. “You wouldn't happen to know of any modes of escape for him? Nothing but his finger was found in a mile radius and no magical scans could reveal any other parts of his body.”

Sirius nodded, “he’s an animagus-we all were.”

Bagnold frowned, “you weren’t registered?”

“That's half the fun.”

“Blast it Black, that knowledge could have saved you from this place, you know that right?”

His eyes narrowed, “I deserve this you know, as penance for ever suggesting Peter as secret keeper, this is my-”

“That isn't how law works, you dramatic moron, now what kind of animal is Pettegrew? Better yet-what were you and Potter as well?”

Sirius glared at Bones, but replied anyway. “Pettigrew was a common brown rat, I’m a black dog, and James was a stag.”

Bones’ eyes widened, “wait, so you mean to say that that time you and Lupin chased that stag wearing a christmas jumper around the great hall-”

“We’re getting off topic.” Bagnold interrupted. “Do you think it was possible for Pettigrew to have escaped into the sewers below? There had been considerable damage to the street that caused the old sewers to be revealed.”

Sirius nodded slowly, “that's the most likely way, yeah. The bastard probably planned to frame me from the beginning, didn’t he… and I fell for it.”

Bagnold stood suddenly, gathering up all the papers on the desk. “I’ll have them move you to a better cell till your trial, with all the hubbub going on it might take a few weeks but I honestly don’t doubt you’ll mind all that much-”

“Wait, you’re really getting me a trial?”

“-of course I am, Black. Everyone is required one to be convinced, and even then any argument against _this_ testimony is rather foolhardy, especially if you consent to veritasium during the trial proper. By all accounts you've just been in a high security holding cell for seven years.”

He gaped at the woman, watching as she opened the door and spoke a few words to the aurors stationed there, who looked at her like she was bloody mental. Sirius agreed with that reaction, personally. The aurors came in cautiously, picking him out of the chair with a little less roughness than they had at first, and he finally started walking with them as he was led from the room, glancing over his shoulder at the two politicians as they discussed the interrogation. He couldn't even begin to process all that had happened until he was set down into a cell that had a bloody _shower._ In which he let himself sob hysterically for an unknowable amount of time, everything crashing down onto him once the shock finally wore off.

* * *

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Amelia stared off at the waves sloshing against the banks of Azkaban as they rowed away, the ever churning storm clouds overhead and the repressive humidity making her question the morality of such a place. Was it truly in their best interest as a country to lock even the pettiest of criminals in the walls of such a hellish institution?

“I do.”

She hadn’t been lying about his appearance being more or less the same, regardless of his gauntness or the far-away look in his eyes, Sirius Black looked much the same at thirty as he did at eighteen. Regardless of that however, he had been far more lucid than she had expected, and it seemed that the anguish of his goddaughter’s kidnapping must have bred calm out of necessity more than anything. 

_Luckily for us._ She thought grimly, watching the waves as they gave a great lunge for the front gates, as if trying to leap out of the water and into the tower proper. 

“Amy, I believe that this is going to turn the storm that is the ministry right now into something of an apocalypse. We need to figure out how to get him a trial without getting the entire building uprooted by an angry mob.”

She nodded, contemplated everything that they knew about the case. “If we really want to believe Pettigrew kidnapped Potter, then there's the distinct possibility of making Black’s trial into something more fantastical than it would have been in a different scenario, so that the public doesn't try and maul him.” She turned to look at the minister, who appeared exhausted but nowhere near done for the day. “You can call an emergency wizengamot session to discuss our findings, and bring him out for another interrogation, most likely under the effects of veritasium if he would consent to being submitted to it. If we can get those bastards to support Black, there isn't much that can't be done for him.”

It was tricky to get Black freed during all this mess, especially since he was supposedly the reason that the Potters were attacked in the first place, but the wizengamot was made up of old Lords and ministry officials, if anyone was going to let an old house’s heir go (especially if there was evidence of him being framed by a poor half-blood like Peter Pettigrew) it would be the stuffy, blood obsessed Lords of the wizengamot and the politicians in their pockets.

“Dumbledore may be an issue.”

Millicent turned to her confusedly, “why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious that Dumbledore had his hands seeped into this entire mess, I wouldn't doubt that he was the one to cast the fidelius charm as well.”

“You don't think he’s working with death eaters, do you?”

Amelia laughed, “no, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I have a feeling that he wanted Potter to be his charge. You know he’s her magical guardian, that wouldn't have been possible if Black didn't go to Azkaban.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “Who do you think is Rosa Potter’s godmother? It's possible that she could take the girl after all this, that is if Black is busy with recovery.”

Millicent shook her head, “her godmother is Minerva McGonagall, sadly, and Hogwarts doesn’t allow the staff’s family onto the grounds unless for weekly visits, she never would have been able to take the girl in the first place.”

_Blast._

“I'm starting to wonder if just the two of us can manage this whole mess, it seems like there's at least three conspiracies going on at the same time.”

They would have to get the wizengamot on Sirius Black’s side before trying to manage anything else. The sooner they got him back to top shape, the sooner they would be able to fix things with Potter’s guardianship, the sooner they could be assured that a kidnapping like this didn't happen again. All of this banked on if they were even able to find Rosa Potter however, which was appearing to be a monumental task as it was. 

Things were shaping up to be an increasingly nasty debate in the ministry of where the girl would go once she was found- _if_ she was found. Everything would be disrupted if Sirius Black came into the picture and made a mess of things. 

A necessary disruption, the way Amelia saw it.

“We can manage for now, I’m sure.”

“I hope you’re right.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was not a fool.

He had realized his mistake in following the dark lord the very second he had seen the dark mark appear on his skin as a mere child of seventeen, just barely out of Hogwarts and already part of a cult of personality. It was in that moment that he had almost faltered, and if it hadn’t been for his father’s hand on his shoulder or the demon across from him, Lucius would have collapsed to the floor in shame.

Because of that, he had let his life play out like an endless torrent of humiliation and regret, his wife watching from the sidelines with quiet remorse. Neither of them had a choice in the life they were forced to live, the war they grew up with making sure the choice was not up to them in the slightest. That was why he was utterly determined to give that kind of life to his son, so that Draco would be given the choice he had been denied.

The Potter Kidnapping changed things, however.

Lucius wasn’t so bold to believe that he had any sort of stake in the girl’s life, being completely unrelated to her spanning seven generations back, but she was an icon to the public, and the stability her presence could bring to his family's image was one he refused to pass up. There was also the fact that Narcissa could bear no more children after how complicated Draco’s was, and the boy himself was in severe need of a sibling.

“Dumbledore will fight you every step of the way, you know that dear.”

“Dumbledore is not as all-powerful as he would like to believe, and it is idiotic of hin to believe that he is capable of getting back in the ministry's good graces before things are already decided upon.”

That was what mattered in the end, if he was able to gain more of the government’s affections then the Headmaster. It didn't really matter what the Potters’ wills said now, her eventual placement was up to the wizengamot and the ministry and a flimsy piece of paper wouldn’t change that.

_Unless the flimsy piece of paper has something the ministry agrees with on it._

It was well known that the wills of old houses were put on public record in order for them to be easily accessed at any time if the need arose, so he was determined to pick the blasted documents apart for any hint of legal jargon that he could use against Dumbledore.

Aparating to the apparition point in Diagon Alley, Lucius walked purposefully through the streets, the crowd subconsciously parting for him as he marched up the steps of the main ministry building. Nodding to the woman at the front desk, he handed off his wand and allowed it to be scanned and a reason-for-visit badge to be issued. Moving on, he stepped through the doors into the marbled atrium, walking along to the northern hall on a steady pace to the archive room. The archives were monstrous, spanning thousands upon millions of parchment that ranged from marriage certificates to decorations of war, all held in the same, massive room. Looking out to the shelves upon shelves of parchment, he immediately moved to a desk whereupon sat a very bored looking archivist.

“Good evening.”

“Mmmhmm… oh! Lord Malfoy my apologies, what can I do for you?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man, “I would like to see the wills of Lily and James Potter.”

The archivist nodded, reaching into a desk and pulling out an absolutely massive tome, waving his wand over its cover and waiting… still waiting.

“Huh.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, “what is it?”

“Well-ah… it seems we don't have them.”

“You don't...have the wills.”

“It seems not, my lord.”

There was an awkward moment of silence.

“How is that possible?”

“Well it shouldn’t be, once a will is read it is transferred magically to the archives.”

Another tense silence.

“So, the wills haven’t been read.”

“I-well yes I suppose that’s the only option.”

Lucius’ thoughts were rushing past in a blur of new ideas and blackmail.

“I thought Albus Dumbledore had been appointed Rosa Potter’s magical guardian through the wills? How is it that they have been unread and yet he has that appointment?”

The archivist looked very nervous at the potential legality (or lack thereof) of what Lucius was suggesting.

“Well, ah… I suppose he would be in quite a bit of trouble for lying on record.”

Lucius nodded once, “is it possible for you to prove on paper that the wills are not in the archives?”

“Oh yes, I can have a report written up.”

“Do that now, I'll need to look into this further.”

“Yes sir.”

He had come for gems and managed to strike gold. If Albus Dumbledore had been lying through his teeth about gaining legal guardianship over the girl-who-lived through the wills, then the entire wizengamot would come down on him like a pack of rabid dogs-blood status or prefered branch of magic be damned.

Leaving the archives only a half hour later-now with a piece of damning parchment clutched in his hands-Lucius made his way directly to the atrium doors, wanting to get back to the manor to write several strongly worded letters, not to mention getting back to Severus about the squib experimentation.

_So much to do so little time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this chapter, since I think it explains things well enough by itself, but if anyone has questions I would be happy to answer them!


	7. Seven Years Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black lost nearly eight years in Azkaban, and Hermione Granger lost many more in Hampstead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, the trial scene had to be the longest scene I've ever written, it was like eight pages in google docs all alone, and my chapters are usually six!

Lucius saw his chance to drag Dumbledore through the mud a few days later, as he got notice of an emergency Wizengamot meeting called by Minister Bagnold to discuss the Potter Kidnapping. Arriving in the atrium with the rest of the Lords and Ladies of the wizengamot, Lucius led his wife through the crowd, her hand a steady assurance on his forearm. It was not common for Narcissa to watch many wizengamot secessions, but she had felt a need to observe this one in particular, and he could never refuse her.

“Lucius old boy! How has it been?” Lord Parkinson was a large, loud man with even larger and louder opinions. Lucius liked him about as much as he liked the dirt on his shoe, but put up with the jolly bastard all the same.

“Pleasant enough, thank you Nigel.” He held the damning parchment he had gotten from the archives close to his chest, the paperwork rolled up and tied expertly with a silver ribbon. Lord Parkinson seemed to eye it curiously, but decided to focus his attention onto Narcissa instead.

“My dear Lady Malfoy, lovely as always I see?”

She smiled prettily, Lucius could nearly see the venom dripping from her lips as she spoke. “Thank you Lord Parkinson, it is always a pleasure.”

The pudgy man nodded assuredly, turning back to Lucius with a wide smile. “Do you happen to know what this is all about old chap? I'm afraid I’ve been rather left out of the loop.”

He shook his head, watching as the large doors of the courtroom three began to open. “I'm sure we’ll all be informed soon enough.”

Moving along with the crowd, Lucius led his wife over to his usual seat, pulling out a chair so that she may sit besides him as well. Another seat appeared on her right to make up for the extra person in attendance. It appeared to him, as he looked out at the crowd, that many had brought their wives or husbands or grown children, all nobles of the wizengamot and their families wishing to take part in the proceedings. There would be many chairs to appear in the stands as people continued to stream in.

Sitting down, Lucius set his scroll steadily onto his lap, his right hand grasping Narcissa’s left gently. She squeezed his fingers in silent assurity, and his breathing steadied slightly, mind put at ease. If he had made a lifetime of bad choices, marrying Narissia Black was the single correct decision he ever had.

The crowd started to settle, the loud roar of a chaotic mess dwindling into hushed conversations of noble folk. Madam Amelia Bones stood on the floor, having a hushed conversation with a few aurors, who appeared pale and unsure. The minister joined the group and whispered something in Madam Bones’ ear, who nodded in return. Lucius narrowed his eyes, something was happening-something big. Watching the two for a moment longer, Lucius’ eyes followed the four aurors as they sped out of the chambers, their postures stiff and expressions wiped clean of all emotion. Something big indeed was going to happen, and he doubted that anyone received an invoice about the contents of this meeting.

The main door creaked open, and a flurry of gaudy, colorful robes appeared from the hallway outside. 

Albus Dumbledore had arrived.

Sweeping through the courtroom’s entrance in horrendously gryffindor regalia, the Chief Warlock commanded a presence that was neither wanted or appreciated by the vast majority of the Lords and Ladies in attendance. If it were not for his staunch supporters and hefty titles, the nobility of the British Isles would have chased him out of the Chief Warlock chair years prior. As it was, the entire ministry seemed intent on making the position as difficult as possible for the man with the most recent upset.

Dumbledore sat down in the Chief Warlock seat, with the empty spaces besides him for both the minister and head of the DMLE still glaringly empty. Silence reigned supreme, with small bubbles of conversation flitting around the room as if caught on an invisible breeze. A scribe quickly entered the room, various parchment and quills floating behind her. The scribe went straight to Madam Bones, who then pointed her towards a modest desk in which she would write. Lucius watched this all with rising suspicion, it was rare that a ministry official requested a personal scribe to mark down the proceedings, and only truly happened if there was a proven threat of miscommunication or sabotage. 

Walking to the center podium, Amelia Bones watched the Minister return to her proper seating, before addressing the crowded wizengamot with a strong voice.

“I thank you all for arriving on such short notice, as there is a matter of great importance that has come to the attention of the auror department. A matter that can be considered a major, near-irreversible oversight by my predecessor, Bartemius Crouch.”

Lucius was immediately intrigued, and watched the aforementioned man pale under the suspicious glances sent his way. 

“Thank you Amelia, what may this oversight be?”

The DMLE head seemed to glare at Dumbledore-likely for the familiarity in a professional setting-but she left it be, turning instead to the wizengamot. “It has been brought to the minister’s attention that not only did Sirius Black not receive trial, but there is damning and dare I say _obvious_ evidence proving that he is innocent of all charges pitted against him.”

The room descended immediately into chaos.

Lucius himself watched Narcissa, who was clutching her hands to her chest as she followed Bones with sharp eyes, like a lion stalking a gazelle. He knew that Sirius was his wife’s favorite cousin-for some unholy reason-and was aware that she had been incredibly disappointed in not reconciling with the man before his imprisonment.

“Order… Order!”

Dumbledore banged his hand against the desk, peering down at Bones with twinkling eyes as the room fell silent. “Now, Madam Bones, I am sure we are all very interested in what you have to say. Please, continue.”

Her eye twitched, “of course, _Albus._ Upon the discovery of Heiress Rosalie Euphemia Potter’s kidnapping, the minister took to Azkaban in the hopes of discovering a potential lead by interrogating the death eaters currently imprisoned there. Her first interrogation was-quite naturally-Sirius Black.”

There was muttering passed around the room, and Lucius returned his eyes to his wife, watching as she focused onto the woman with an intensity that shocked him. 

“Upon giving Black the news of Potter’s disappearance however, he reportedly reacted in a way that Madam Minister refers to as ‘overcome with grief’.” She paused, allowing the wizengamot to whisper to themselves for a few moments before continuing. “The man was in such a state that Madam Bagnold worried that he may feel inclined to take his life if left unsupervised, and returned to the mainland only after assuring that he was to be guarded by stationed aurors.”

Lucius winced, the subject of suicide was a tricky one, and in this scenario nearly solidified the prospect of Black feeling true agony in regards to Rosa Potter’s disappearance. From the pale faces of the crowd, many agreed with that assessment.

“Upon returning, she requested immediate counsel with me, and I performed a professional and legal interrogation of Black several hours later, bar the use of veritasium. The transcripts of said interrogation are here.” She pointed her wand to a sack of parchment, which then proceeded to float up and disperse to each official member of the wizengamot. Lucius immediately handed his to Narcissa, choosing to read over her shoulder instead. The courtroom was quiet, spare the occasional shocked gasp, until each and every person had read it and sat then, screaming at each other and attempting quite aggressively to say their own personal opinion.

“He lies! Peter Pettigrew was a war hero!”

“Pettigrew framed the heir of a great house, don’t you try to deny it!”

“Does this prove that Pettigrew lives? Is it possible that he was the one who kidnapped Rosa Potter?”

Bones appeared to watch Dumbledore as he read over the transcripts for the third time, his bright blue eyes dimming into something far more serious. She then waited for the room to quiet into a stiff silence before returning to her speech. “Due to the transcripts, which show a rather aggressive difference between Black’s version of events and the ones that we have created ourselves, the minister suggests that the only way to truly know what is the undeniable truth is to have the man consent to a third round of questioning, this time under the effects of veritasium.”

Shouts of agreement rang in his ears, and Lucius clutched the scroll held in his hands, watching Dumbledore as the man raised both hands to quiet the room. He had no illusions that the chief warlock would attempt to remain as neutral as possible while still getting his way, and Lucius was curious to find out just how he managed it.

“Thank you Madam Bones, in the wake of a sudden end to a long, harrowing war, such a horrendous oversight such as this is not unexpected, but disappointing all the same. All in favor of granting heir Black a trial?”

Surprisingly, Bones seemed to glower hatefully at the man, though it was difficult to tell with her face so stony as it was. Lucius hummed with slight curiocity, wondering if that was not what the DMLE head wished for Dumbledore to say. Narcissa nudged him, and he hurriedly raised his wand with the rest of the members for Black receiving trail, which was shaping up to be quite the sweep, with only a handful of staunch and rather stubborn people voting against. Bones appeared pleased, nodding to an auror stationed at the eastern-side entrance, who threw open the doors and marched out of the chambers with purpose. Narcissa’s hand tightened around his wrist as Bones addressed the crowd once more.

“Heir Black has not only consented to the use of veritasium, but consents to any question that the wizengamot sees fit to ask.”

As she spoke, the auror returned, this time with three others and the man himself. Sirius Black looked for all the world like he had been through hell twice over, his pained shamble doing nothing for his already wretched state. Covered in years of grime and dirt, with skin sticking painfully to his bones, Black was the picture perfect azkaban prisoner, with one important distinction: his eyes held no insanity, his sharp gaze roaming the stands as he observed them all. The man was perfectly aware and quite obviously _pissed._

Settling Black into a chain-ladled chair in the middle of the room, the aurors backed away and returned to guarding the exits, watching him with careful eyes. Narcissa had nearly cut off circulation in his hand, her delicate fingers like a vice around his wrist. The peanut gallery refused to quiet their muttering until Madam Bones held her wand aloft and lit an overpowered lumos, which did well in partially blinding him as it also rendered the room silent. Coming in behind the aurors was a woman who introduced herself as a well known potions specialist named Deidra Moreau.

“Now, Sirius Black, do you consent to the use of veratisum on your person?”

Black cleared his throat, voice coming out croaky with disuse. “I do.”

Moreau proceeded then to show the wizengamot the potion, and after they had all gotten a good look at it, pour three drops of it down Black’s throat. The man’s eyes lost their hard glint, turning the glassy unseeingness that was so infamous of the truth serum. Moreau stood off to the side as Madam Bones returned to center stage. Nodding to the scribe, who poised her hand to show she was prepared to write, Bones began the questioning.

“What is your full name?”

“Sirius Orion Black.”

“When were you born?”

“The third of November, 1959.”

Bones turned slightly to the potions specialist, who nodded. She turned to the scribe. “Potion is in effect, the full questioning will now commence.”

A few people shouted out questions, Bones held her hand up to silence them.

“On the night of October thirty first, 1981, did you go to the home of Lily and James Potter at any time with the intent to allow Voldemort into the home?”

“No.”

“Are you a death eater or have you, in any way, supported the Dark Lord?”

“No.”

She paused, seemingly contemplating her next words before carrying on. “Did you leave Godric's Hollow with the express intent to kill Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yes.”

“Were you successful in that attempt?”

“No.”

The muttering in the stands rose to a dull roar, and Lucius was forced to remove his wife’s hand from his wrist lest she remove his hand from his arm.

“Were you ever the Potters’ secret keeper?”

“Yes, but we switched.”

“Elaborate on that.”

“I was the first secret keeper, but requested that Pettigrew be made the secret keeper because I worried that I was too obvious of a choice.”

“When did you request this change?”

“The fourth of August, 1981.”

Dumbledore rose then, silencing the room with raised arms. “Thank you Amelia, I believe we have all that is necessary to make the proper decision.”

She smiled tightly. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Chief Warlock, but I believe that a thorough investigation will assure us that no more oversights were made in this specific instance.”

Lucius began to unravel the ribbon holding the document in place, waiting for the right time to strike. Bones returned to her questioning as the wizengamot watched with bated breath.

“Relay the entire night of October 31st, 1981, leaving out _no_ details.”

“I got off duty at six pm and apparated to my flat. However, I got a bad feeling and decided to check on James and Lily. When I got there, the walls around the nursery were blown outwards as if an overpowered bombarda had been cast, and I could hear the sound of Rosa crying loudly from outside. I managed to ram the door open, as it had been blocked by fallen debris, and made my way inside. The first thing I saw was James, lying on the stairs. I checked for a pulse, but he was dead. The crying came from the nursery, so I ran up and found Lily on the floor, and Rosa bawling her eyes out…” he paused, emotions bleeding through the potion and revealing a man wrought with grief. “For a moment, I thought her face had been nearly split in two, but after I cleaned her up and tried as many healing charms as I could, the gash ended up being a half inch deep across the deepest sections like her cheek and lip, so her skull was no longer visible.” 

Lucius shuddered, considering what a profound injury that must have appeared as. From the pale faces around the room, everyone in attendance was considering the same thing. It was difficult to say what her scar had truly looked like, as all reports had only described it as ‘lightning shaped’, which was obviously underplaying the ferocity of the injury. He could only assume that the creator of those reports wished to downplay the actual size and severity of the infamous scar for some reason.

“I left the house, when Hagrid showed up-”

“Rubeus Hagrid correct? The groundskeeper at Hogwarts that is without a wand or proper training in magic past third year?”

“Yes.”

There was the muttering of various people at that, people glancing at Dumbledore with confusion and suspicion. The man appeared infuriatingly calm, his eyes boring into Black as if he could burn a hole in his head.

“Thank you for the specification, please continue.”

“He said that the headmaster had sent him along to fetch Rosa, and to hand her over, so I did.”

There were actual shouts of confusion and anger at that, and Dumbledore stood in order to placate the crowd. “Now now everyone, I had a very good reason for this, and Hagrid has always been a gentle man, I was absolutely assured in her safety-”

Madam Bones turned then, appearing very obviously annoyed with the man. “We will return to this specific discussion after the interrogation is complete Chief Warlock, thank you for the interruption.”

She gave the word to Black, who continued with his side of events. Lucius sat back into his seat, almost having stood to address Dumbledore’s misdoings.

“I ran off to find Peter, hoping to kill him. After about two hours, I found him on some muggle street, where he started to yell about how I had turned traitor. Before anything was cast, he used a cutting curse on his own finger and pointed his wand down to the pavement, casting some sort of advanced bombarda that I had never heard of. The street then exploded. I don’t remember much after that except for a lot of hands grabbing me, and then being thrown into my cell in azkaban.”

Silence descended onto the room, broken only when Bones requested that the antidote be administered. Lucius noted that she hadn't asked the wizengamot if they would like to ask anything either, though he doubted that there was much left to say. Black’s testimony written in the transcript from Azkaban already discussed him and Pettigrew being animaguses, and while being unregistered could land you with a hefty fine, it was doubtful that anyone would attempt to impose such a fine on the man after the past seven years.

The sharpness returned to Black’s eyes as he was fed the antidote, and a tear slid down his dirtied cheek. There was no doubt that the man was truthful, and there was even less doubt about the outcome of this impromptu trial.

Amelia Bones faced the Chief Warlock, “is there anything that you would like to say, Albus?”

Dumbledore sighed, “Yes, thank you Amelia.” He stood, facing the rows of lords and ladies as he nodded diplomatically. “Now, I am aware that the act of sending someone to gather Rosa Potter in my stead does not reflect positively on my person, but as the Potters had been killed and the babe the only survivor, I felt it was imperative to have her brought to Hogwarts where she was assured safety. I meant no harm in my actions.”

Lucius clenched his jaw, he couldn't see any way into the conversation without appearing as though he was intentionally antagonizing the man. It seemed though that Amelia Bones was doing well enough to help him with that on her own.

“With all due respect Albus, you had no grounds to do such a thing. The wills had yet to be read and your appointment as guardian had not been secured, so I find it difficult to see how you had any legal obligations to send someone to get her.”

“Actually, Madam Bones, I'm afraid to say that they wills have yet to be read, as it stands today.”

All eyes turned to where he stood, his back straight and eyes focused onto Dumbledore’s as the man stiffened in shock.

“Pardon me, Lord Malfoy?”

He held the parchment up lazily, almost langusly, showing it off as it swang free from its fabric confinements. “I had been… curious, after the news of Rosa Potter’s disappearance was released to the public, and took to the ministry’s archives in order to find what was said on the wills about the matter of guardianship.” 

There was muttering in the crowd, everyone in attendance knew of his attempts to gain the missing girl as his future charge. “Imagine my shock when the archivist revealed that the wills were nowhere to be found. Naturally, I had him write a report at once.”

He held eye contact with Dumbledore, daring him to say a word as Bones took the outstretched parchment from him, reading over the report and its credentials.

“The document is valid.” She turned to the Chief Warlock as yells of outrage bubbled up from the crowd of onlookers. “How precisely do you explain this, _Albus?”_

He smiled kindly, infuriatingly. “I am afraid that I asked the goblins to keep close eye on the wills, as I was not certain if someone would attempt to… recreate them.” he glanced to Lucius, who glowered from his seat, the sneaky bastard was going to squirm out of this. “So both are still in Gringotts, though I would be happy to have them brought out from the Potter vault at a later time.”

The crowd had quieted as he explained things, and Lucius knew that he would have to speak with Madam Bones in depth about her apparent distrust of him. As it was, the wizengamot appeared somewhat separated on which side they were on, as the muttering was still sprinkled about the room.

“Well, be sure that you do at the next session, Albus. Now-” she turned back to the wizengamot, clearly done with the man. “Are there any who wish to speak in regards to the evidence shown today?” No one said a word, “very well, all in favor of acquitting Sirius Orion Black of all charges?”

Most wands rose, Lucius’ among them.

“All against?”

There were only a few, mostly those who were particularly stubborn or old fashioned, or those who were very obviously death eaters who likely felt that letting Sirius Black walk free would be going against their lord. The fools.

Madam Bones smiled slightly, looking down at Black as the magic suppressing cuffs snapped off his thin arms. “Congratulations, Heir Black.”

Before anyone could raise an applause, Narcissa stood from her chair. “If I may, Madam?”

Bones blinked at her for a moment before nodding, waving Black back down into his seat. Lucius sat back, eyes darting nervously between his wife and the newly freed man.

“My cousin is obviously in a horrible state, where exactly will he be placed to heal?”

The question made many shift in their seats, muttering to each other quietly. Black appeared indignant at best. “Oi, Cissy-”

“I'm afraid that is up to your family, Lady Malfoy.” Madam Bones cut him off, and began to walk from the floor, the meeting obviously adjourned. Dumbledore didn't even bother to say any ending words as all stood from their seats.

Lucius sighed as his wife daintily sprinted down the floor, grasping her cousin by his arms and whispering to him quietly. He was positive that she was in the process of demanding that he come to Malfoy Manor, and Lucius didn’t doubt that she would get her way. Standing from the hard chair, he nodded to Lord Nott as the older man pat him on the shoulder.

“Good on you Lucius, I’m sure if you keep searching, we can find _something_ on the old bastard.”

“We can only hope, thank you Parzival.”

The two men shared a quiet conversation as they made their way down to the floor, Lucius keeping an eye out for any trouble. 

“I understand that my son is a bit of a menace, but Theo is an incredibly good influence on him-”

“Yes, because my grandson isn’t a rabid animal like Draconis.”

“That is a _slight_ over exaggeration, Parzival.”

“Obviously not nearly enough of an exaggeration as you might expect, considering you used the term ‘slight’ to describe it.”

The crowd parted, and he came upon the most polite argument that had ever been had.

“Lady Malfoy, I am sure that Mr. Black is very tired-”

“Yes Headmaster, and for that I am taking him home once my husband returns. However, I thank you kindly for your concern.”

He really needed to break into Severus’ house again, his liquor cabinet would be looking a tad dry after tonight.

Sirius Black, surprisingly, didn't seem nearly as against being swept up to Malfoy Manor as Lucius expected, instead just standing there watching the argument play out curiously. Bidding goodbye to Lord Nott, he maneuvered around the polite argument and right to the man.

“Evening Black.”

“Malfoy.”

“I suppose you will be living under my roof for the unforeseeable future?”

The newly freed man glaired for a moment, “I would rather not, if I'm being completely honest.”

Lucius leaned close to the shorter man, “I hope you understand how little I care. My wife wants you in our home for some ungodly reason and I refuse to tempt her wrath by saying no.”

Black went a little pale, glancing at the still-arguing woman with worried eyes, he had grown up with Narcissa after all.

“Fine, but only so she doesn't castrate the both of us.”

He nodded, sharing an odd form of comradery with the man. Turning, he approached his wife from behind, meeting eyes with Dumbledore as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

“It was a pleasure, Chief Warlock, but Heir Black deserves to be with his family as he recovers.You can meet with him at a later date, I'm sure.”

With a final glare to the man, he steered Narcissa back to her cousin, who was shaking hands and speaking quietly with a man who Lucius could identify as Kingsley Shackbolt.

“I'm sure Amelia would be happy to let you back onto the force, Sirius.”

“Oh come on man, I’m skin and bones! At least let me eat a little before you hound me like this.”

“I absolutely agree. Shall we be off, cousin?” Narcissa raised an eyebrow at Black, who nodded quickly, shaking Shackbolt’s hand once more before saying his parting words. His wife grabbed her cousin around the boney elbow, pulling him through the crowd as people reached out to make a connection with the poor man, who was looking more and more overwhelmed. Pushing ahead of them, Lucius parted the crowd with a sharp wave of his walkingstick, wizengamot members parting like the Red Sea for Moses.

“Well, maybe your husband isn’t all bad, Cissy.” 

He grimaced, this was already shaping up to be a wretched few weeks.

* * *

Blood pumped through her ears, the bitter taste of iron filling in her mouth as she spit a tooth onto the cement underfoot. Her muddy sneakers pounded against the sidewalk, her legs screaming out in agony as she worked them harder and harder, running faster and faster.

Hermione was running away.

At least, she was attempting to run away, she had done it several times before and had never managed to last more than a week on her own before crawling back to her parents, but this time she was positive that she would stay away for good. 

She ran harder, sprinting faster and faster as the musty, warm summer rain sprinkled onto her back. Her father had hit her, had truly actually swung at her, and had knocked out a tooth in the process; A second one had come loose enough for her to spit out after letting it wiggle for a few minutes. Hermione knew it was her fault, was aware that she was the one that started it in the first place, but she didn't care. All she was focused on was getting as far away as she could as quickly as she could.

Her shadow surged forward, encompassing her arms and legs entirely, somehow making the pain subside slightly as she pressed on. Splashing through a muddy puddle, Hermione slid around a corner, ignoring the sound of a car as it screamed past and soaked her in muddy water. She simply spit out the water that had splashed into her mouth and rubbed her eyes of the stinging runoff, not stopping in her pursuit of getting as far away as possible.

It would be difficult to find food, and the teachers at school would worry as usual, but she would be able to dodge them on her way out and her parents always just waited for her to run on back, so Hermione was positive that she could get to an orphanage or something before they started looking for her. Maybe she could even change her appearance somehow, get a haircut?

She turned a corner, and a hand caught her arm.

“Gerroff me!”

She wriggled, yanking at her arm as her shadow started to encase more and more of her body, she didn’t bother to note the assailant, as long as she could get away she would never see them again. 

“Hermione Jean Granger, I presume?” The voice sounded tired, as if the speaker had been having something of a long day. She continued to yank at her arm, questioning why her shadow wasn’t doing anything.

“Please desist your incessant yanking, I am trying to have a conversation with you.”

She whipped her head up, glaring at the gothic man she had bowled over not a week prior. “How do you know my name?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, “I have been attempting to find you, infernal child, so that we may discuss that black magic of yours.”

She stopped tugging, looking at the man with thinly veiled confusion. “Are you mental?”

He glared mildly, “sadly not. Now, Miss. Granger, I would like to speak to you about your black magic.”

“What black magic?”

“That shadow of yours.”

She was… _extremely_ distrustful of most adults, and while this man didn’t look like your typical child molester, he was extremely rude and she didn't like the look of his nose. However, she was getting positive vibes from him, which was new in comparison to… everyone she had ever met, as people usually had a neutral or negative vibe. Her shadow was also telling, as it wasn’t trying to attack the man.

“...Who are you?”

He straightened, and she noticed that he had strange vials of colored liquid attached to his belt, was he some sort of drug dealer? 

“My name is Severus Snape, and if you would design to halt your wriggling, I would be happy to explain just what that shadow of yours is.”

* * *

Sirius never expected that he would willingly walk into Malfoy Manor, he had anticipated that he would have to be dragged in by his ankles, no doubt after trying to duel thirty death eaters to the death. As it was, Narcissa Black was a much greater force than any amount of the dark lord’s followers, and while he might be fine with going out in flames, she would drag his death out much longer than he was comfortable with. 

Walking up to the front gates, he got to watch as Malfoy added him to the wards, doing so with a look of constipation splashed across his face. It was obvious that he was only allowing this to appease his wife, which was rather funny but Sirius wasn’t going to say anything, already grateful that he didn't have to hole up in 12 Grimmauld Place with nothing but his growing depression and Kreacher to deal with.

“Now cousin, I apologize in advance for not having a room already made up, but we hadn’t anticipated having guests.”

He snorted, “ol’ Bones didn’t send out an invoice then?”

Malfoy turned the constipated look to him, appearing not only tired but annoyed. “To be rather blunt, Black, no one knew what the meeting would entail.”

They began walking up the long road towards the manor, Lucius listing off a short history of the manor as he did so. Sirius wasn’t really paying attention, instead watching a blonde kid sneak around past them on the way towards the still open gate. He looked an awful lot like Malfoy, but his mischievous eyes were all Narcissa. Sirius contemplated doing anything as he watched the kid slink behind a hedge before making a break for the front gate.

“Is that your son, Cissy?”

“Hm?”

She turned, following his line of sight to the boy as he sprinted past a rose bus.

“Oh merlin-Lucius, Draco is trying to escape again!”

“Blast it-”

Both of the two ran past him, chasing the boy as he picked up his speed, attempting to reach the gate before they caught up. Sirius watched, incredibly confused and a little endeared, as Narcissa attempted to stun her own child. He became even more endeared as the boy started dodging expertly, and Sirius got to watch as the two posh slytherins chased the little kid around the guardian, Cissy shouting very unladylike words all the while.

“Right this way, Heir Sirius Black sir.”

He glanced down to a young house elf, who looked up at him with big eyes. “Evenin’ chap, just Sirius is fine.”

The house elf nodded jerkily, pulling at his prison pants. “This way Heir Sirius sir.”

He sighed, “close enough.”

Following after the elf, who introduced himself as Bippity, Sirius watched the as the Malfoys ran out of sight, still chasing their rather speedy son. He smiled a little at the scene, it was a good day when the heir of a snooty pure-blooded house made a mess of things. He might be able to find a kindred spirit in the little brat.

He was led into the main hall, which was what he could describe as the exact polar opposite of Grimmauld place. The walls were _cream,_ with silky and thin curtains hanging around large windows, barely doing anything besides wafting in the breeze though their near-transparency. The only dark colors that remained of the place were the deeply stained wood of portraits that decorated the walls, a light gold accent pulling the main hall together with the rest of the house, which was assured to look the same. Slytherin accents of light greens and silvers decorated throw pillows and the occasional vase, but it wasn’t the aggressive devotion he found in Grimmauld place or what he had expected of the Malfoy ancestral home.

“Lady Cissy renovated the manor after the wedding, tearing downs the dark and bringing in light.” The elf was well spoken for a Malfoy elf, and continued on with his explanation as Sirius observed the large, airy home. It seemed that Narcissa wanted to leave the past behind her, and had forced her family along for the ride. Good on her, he would have gone mad if he had to stay in a dowr place like the Black ancestral home while he was supposed to be recovering.

“Lord Lucy says that you will be staying here for now, Heir Sirius sir.”

They had suddenly come upon the guest bedrooms, as Bippity pointed out a specific door. Opening it, he peaked into a room that he would consider ‘cautiously gryffindor’, with barely a sprinkle of red around the otherwise beige room. From the bedframe hung drapes of red, which matched the curtains dancing across the window. The sheets were also red, though he would be hard pressed to consider them anything but maroon. All in all, it was large and comfortable, and he could see a gold-embellished bathtub peaking around the corner of the large washroom, so he considered it the best he could ask for.

“Thanks a million, Bippity.”

Stepping into the washroom, he nearly purred at the large bath that sat along the wall, akining the glistening ceramics to nirvana as he turned the tap and let the hot water flow.

“Lady Cissy has sent Dobby to bring yous the clothes from your small home, he will comes back shortly.”

“Brilliant.”

He didn't bother glancing up from the slowly filling bath to watch the elf pop away, too caught up in watching the warm water slowly rise. He hadn't touched water meant for bathing for nearly eight bloody years, he had the right to be excited about finally getting clean.

Ripping the rags off, Sirius turned off the tap and sunk into the sinfully hot water, feeling the warmth slowly return to his bones after years of only feeling a dementor's chill. He groaned, rubbing at his skin as the water quickly turned a muddy brown. Grunting slightly, he pulled the plug and turned back on the tap, hoping for some semblance of circulation in the water so it would begin to clear.

Sirius then proceeded to have one of the longest and most lavish baths of his entire life.

* * *

Hermione took an aggressive bite out of her sandwich, munching at the turkey as Mr. Snape continued to speak. It wasn’t hard for her to realize he was telling the truth about magic, as she had her shadow to attest for supernatural things existing, but it was still incredible to watch him cast magic with an honest to god _wand!_

She sat with him in a deli, half people watching and half listening to his rant. Mr. Snape had cast some sort of ‘don't pay attention’ spell on them so that the ‘muggles’ wouldn’t ask them any uncomfortable questions, which she thought was just incredible. Hermione wanted very much to learn such a spell so that she could be ignored all the time, but Mr. Snape said that she would have to learn it at a school called Hog… something or other. Truly, she had been paying far more attention to what he had been doing than what he had been saying, too focused on the fantastical side of things for once to bother with the analytical.

Blast, she had really been swept away from herself if she was thinking thoughts like that. Not caring about analytics? Bah!

“That being said, I am doubtful of just who you might be a descendant of, as most of the poor souls had been killed off after the experimentations.” Mr. Snape had been going on about something called the ‘squib experimentations’, which sounded an awful lot like the nazi human experimentations to her, and the dour man seemed uncomfortable with the comparison, so she could only assume it was realistic.

“So what you’re saying is,” she finished off the sandwich, wiping her fingers on a napkin as she swallowed. “-is that one of my ancestors was the aquelevent of a magical nazi internment prisoner that was experimented on by a magical nazi, and the side effects of said experimentation has manifested in me as my shadow?”

He grimaced, but nodded, “if you truly wish to be as blunt as physically possible, then yes I suppose they are equitable in some manner. However, your ‘shadow’ as you call it is a demonic entity that latched onto you-likely at birth-and is now seemingly protecting you from harm.”

“Fascinating! Of course I knew my shadow was a demon, all the priests say as much,” the man’s eyes narrowed, gaze calculating as she spoke, “-but I had no idea that it was genetic in some manner, my parents would go into fits if they found out my sinfulness is their fault!”

She was far more gleeful about the idea than Mr. Snape seemed to be, as the man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his abnormally large nose tiredly. “Miss. Granger, please answer truthfully when I ask this: do your parents mistreat you?”

This was a question that came up ever so often with adults, and it never failed to make her wince. She knew that, logically, while their intentions were perceived to them and priests as efforts in saving her soul, Hermione knew that they were not good to her. However, she refused to consider their actions to be mistreatment, as her shadow always fought back to keep her safe, and she had only ever been physically harmed once. That day had been the first time her father had ever landed a hit, and it was the only moment that she could consider true mistreatment from the textbook definition. She was not abused in the least, she had a warm bed and three meals a day, she went to school and got good grades that were rewarded by her parents. If she didn’t have a demon then nothing would be wrong, she was sure of it.

Mr. Snape looked so tired, and there was something in his eyes that reflected in her own. She realized then that he was not asking her as an adult, but as another child with parents who had been afraid of the demon-of the _magic._

“My dad hit me today, he knocked out two teeth.” Mr. Snape didn't show any outward reaction, but his eyes dimmed slightly with disappointment. She understood that as well, the disappointment in that he wished to be wrong. “My shadow keeps me protected all the time, I hadn't ever gotten hit before today. The exorcisms are a little odd, but they don't hurt in the slightest.”

He nodded slowly, taking a long sip from his coffee as he lost himself to his own thoughts. Hermione didn't want to entertain the idea of perhaps seeing this magical world that he came from. She didn't even want to consider the possibility of Mr. Snape helping her run away from her parents or the boring, dull, mundane life that she was currently living. She didn’t let herself trust adults, even if they bought her food and told her about magic, it was stupid and a waste of time.

“You will no doubt receive a letter from Hogwarts-” _Merlin, that’s even worse than what I thought it was called._ “-on your eleventh birthday.”

“Eleventh! But I don’t turn ten for ages! How am I expected to live till then?”

“At your home, Miss. Granger, as I'm sure you know that is typically where one lives.”

She held her tongue, knowing it would be bad to tell him she was running away, Mr. Snape seemed to see right through her stony expression though, and sighed tiredly. “There are no orphanages in magical Britain Miss. Granger, there is nowhere for you to go in the magical community if you truly wish to stay far away from your family.”

She clamped up, turning and looking back out the window at passing pedestrians, effectively ignoring Mr. Snape and his harsh truths. Hermione knew that, logically, she would not be able to survive on the streets on her own. She was not apt in pick-pocketing and had no means of continuing her education on her own. That was why she never lasted longer than a week, she either ran out of funds or stressed about her schooling. If she could go to some sort of magical primary school though, things would be much easier.

Mr. Snape took a long sip of his coffee, and Hermione wondered if he was pouring something in it to keep it so full, she had seen her mum do that with brandy sometimes.

“I am a professor at Hogwarts, Miss. Granger, there is no way for me to help you or somehow take you in. However, I can speak to several of my… acquaintances about taking you on as their charge.”

“What do you mean by…charge?”

“Of fostering you, if the need for it arises.”

He seemed somewhat constipated, as if considering something rather damning or unholy. Hermione could only assume that either his acquaintances were rather obnoxious, or the idea of them fostering her was a ridiculous one. As it was, the little runaway would take whatever she could get.

“This is, of course, on the condition that you allow me to take you to the police so that you can file a report against your father immediately.”

The idea sent a violent shock through her system, but Hermione held firm, knowing that this just might be her only chance at freedom.

“Deal.”

* * *

Sirius fell onto the soft bed with a quiet groan, pressing his face into the soft quilt and making a considerable effort to not burst into tears. The jumpy little elf named Dobby had rocked into the washroom while he was still scrubbing off nearly eight years worth of grime, with all of Sirius’ old muggle clothes floating along behind him. When the little elf had caught sight of him attempting to use soap for the first time in years, he had volunteered to help Sirius with his hair, as well as trim his beard. In the end, the newly freed man had gotten completely clean, shaved, trimmed, and dressed in an old band t-shirt that hung uncomfortably loose and a pair of old sweats that nearly fell off of him. Dobby had been kind enough to go get him a small meal and a nutrient potion so he could begin recovering some weight.

Flopping around for a while before managing to get under the covers, Sirius stared up at the translucent red canopy and thought of the whirlwind of a week he had just had. He had no idea if the ministry would bother releasing the news of his trial or the outcome to the press. It was unlikely the news would even make it to the front page with all the mess with Rosa’s disappearance sending everyone into a tizzy. He swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears as he thought of his goddaughter. If by some miracle he managed to find her, she wouldn't be let out of his sight till he was dead and pushing up daisies. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake he did eight years prior, he wouldn't go running off for revenge and leave her to someone else.

“Aren’t you my mum’s weirdo cousin who went to gryffindor?”

He peered to his left, making eye contact with curious gray eyes. The kid from the garden was leaning forward against the mattress, acting nonchalant but obviously curious.

“Nah, I went to hufflepuff actually.”

Draco Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust, hopping up onto the bed and sitting cross legged next to him, facing Sirius as he played with a stray thread on his shirt. “Nice try, but mum wouldn't have let you in if you were actually a 'puff.”

“Don't you have a spanking or something scheduled in a few minutes, troublemaker?”

The kid grinned mischievously, “of course not, mum and father are still running about looking for me in the garden, I snuck in one of the windows.”

Sirius barked a laugh, wincing as the motion made his ribs hurt. Right on time, Dobby popped into existence and set a small meal and a large glass of water in front of him, handing a vial of purple liquid to him as he did. Sirius choked the nutrient potion down, and slathered some marmalade onto a slice of toast. He doubted that he would be able to eat the entire thing, but there was no harm in dreaming.

“What's that purple gunk?”

“Nutrient potion, it's supposed to make my muscles less... nonexistent.”

“Makes sense, you're a few stones away from being a skeleton you know.”

Sirius peered at the boy with amused eyes, he was far from what was expected of a Malfoy heir, but considering that Cissy was his mother and Lucius Malfoy seemed to be just barely pulled along for the ride, he could only assume the boy was growing up with much fewer restraints than other pure-blooded heirs were. Lucky bastard.

He was about to reply when the sound of a door slamming and feet rushing through the halls made Draco leap over the bed and sprint over to the window, throwing it open and peering back over his shoulder.

“Get them off my back and I'll dub you my favorite cousin.”

Tempting. “Bring me something good from your father’s liquor cabinet and you’ve got a deal.”

Draco nodded, before jumping from the window right as Narcissa burst into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to slytherins and Draco: I was always kinda annoyed that the Slytherins were always portrayed as being this evil hiss hiss murder house, when really what was happening was they were getting stereotyped as being evil and dark. I've also gotten kinda sick of Draco being... like that (you know what Im talking about) and have taken it upon myself to characterize him in a way that feels more like a cunning rich kid who wants to play with his friends and have fun. Because, really, if you're going to make a bunch of children rich and spoilt, you have to expect them to disregard parental authority and do as they wish when they aren't out in public. Also, I am aware that the characterization of Lucius and Narcissa has also changed considerably, but I wanted this change in Draco to be allowed with the environment that he grows up in, and that can't happen if his parents are wilfully magic nazis.
> 
> In regards to Sirius: I'm not quite sure who to pair him with, as while Wolfstar is a beacon of brilliance shining down on us all, I'm really wanting my fic to be separate and... idk just set apart from the typical fanfiction, which is why the fae are so predominate, and Hermione is the dark leaning one, and why Draco is actually cunning and fun loving. I feel a need to either not pair Sirius with anyone or try my cards with Amelia Bones or Severus, because both would be fun in their own ways, and I feel that it would be a considerable challenge to make Sirius and Severus go from enemies to lovers in a plot that is already so chock full of stuff. I don't know, I would love some feedback on everyone's thoughts, because it would really help me get a better picture of what people want with the pairings.


	8. An Unwanted Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not every reunion is wanted or planned... or particularly enjoyable.

“Where is he.”

Sirius sat in bed, a slice of toast half raised to his mouth and mind working hard to come up with a believable lie as his cousin stared him down. He wondered, distantly, if Lucius would even have any alcohol that was  _ worth _ lying to Narcissa for. As it stood, he was beginning to regret his decisions rather quickly.

“Where’s who?”

_ Real bloody smooth Sirius, Moony would be ashamed of your lying ability. _

Remus had always been the one who could lie the best, it was why he had gotten off in school so easily, with that innocent little angel face he would always pull. Sirius however, was rather pathetic at lying, always instead just trying not to get caught in the first place. Sirius took a large bite out of his toast, pretending that Draco Malfoy hadn’t just jumped from the window mere seconds prior. Narcissa narrowed her eyes, gaze searching the room for any hint of foul play.

“My son, dear cousin, where is my little demon of a child?”

He swallowed his chewed up toast, taking another bite in the desperate hope of dragging the conversation out as long as he could. “I'm afraid that I haven't seen him, Cissy. Perhaps he got out the front gate?”

She scoffed, stalking forward and snatching the other slice of toast of his plate, buttering it for him as she spoke. “I doubt it, the wards have been locked from the inside, so he couldn't manage it even if he tried.”

A quiet voice piped up from outside the window. “Oh that’s just cheating!”

Several things happened in quick succession then, the first being Narcissa dropping the slice of toast back onto his plate and vaulting over the bed with shocking agility. The second was the little brat bolting, having attempted a sneaky escape before the news of the wards becoming locked was brought to light. Sirius watched with apparent glee as his stiff cousin jumped out of the window and sprinted off after her son, yelling crassly about how much trouble he was in as she did. He laughed lightly, finishing off his first slice of toast before moving onto the second, hoping he could be able to finish it. Just as he took a bite, Lucius tumbled into the room, his long hair frazzled and breathing uneven, the poor sod looked as though he had run a marathon.

“Black! Where is-”

Sirius motioned to the window, munching on his toast as a small head of white hair sprinted past, followed by a blur which could be identified as Narcissa. Lucius groaned, turning on his heel and sprinting back the way he came, finally allowing Sirius some well deserved peace and quiet to finish his bland dinner.

Sighing, he looked back up at the red canopy, thinking of what he would have to do now that he was freed. The first order of business was getting healthy again, of that there was no doubt, but he hadn't a clue as to what would come after.

_ I could always get another flat. _

Events were revealing themselves to him in a peculiar order, and while it was generally expected of him to stay still and rest for the next merlin knows how many months, Sirius already could tell that the family who begrudgingly welcomed him into their home was most certainly  _ not  _ looking for a permanent resident in him. As it was, he had no idea what to do, as apparently he was still Heir Black and therefore had several incredibly depressing and not at all ideal homes in which he could live in. Sure, 12 Grimmauld Place was by far the most convenient out of the options, being so close to everything that he would need or want in day to day life, but it was also by far the  _ worst  _ in regards to his wretched memories of the place. If he was lucky, Kreacher would be long dead and no doubt hung up to dry on the wall of heads. If not, the place would be no doubt unlivable and far worse than he already expected.

He glanced around the airy room and thought back to a Malfoy galla he had attended as a child. Narcissa had done the manor a great service by renovating it, as the once gothic and morbid home now looked only three rings down from heaven. Perhaps he could have her renovate Grimmauld place as well? The old townhouse could certainly use an upgrade.

He sighed, taking a small bite of marmalade-slathered toast as he thought. All plans for moving into  _ anywhere  _ should be put on hold till he could be assured some semblance of physical and mental security. Once that would happen, he would finally be able to ask some questions about the present state of affairs, the first being why everyone and their dog seemed to despise Headmaster Dumbledore now. If he got a better picture of how life had played out during his imprisonment, then it would be much,  _ much _ easier to acclimate himself to normal life.  _ And then I can search for Rosa.  _ He screwed up his eyes tightly, wishing that this newfound freedom of his hadn’t been the byproduct of his goddaughter’s imprisonment. It was a certain kind of morbid irony that he was still forced to be away from the only person that could give his life meaning anymore. With James and Lily dead, Peter a traitor, and Moony off to the four winds, it was appearing more and more obvious that she was the last one left from his old life, and the rosy cheeked little girl’s disappearance was leaving a gaping hole in his chest that was difficult to ignore.

Sirius sighed, everyone was talking about what would happen  _ after  _ Rosalie was found, but no one seemed all that inclined to actually bloody look for her. It was harrowing to sit there and wonder what she was doing-if she was hurt or scared-when all the ministry was doing was arguing over inconsequential things like guardianship. It was obvious anyway, James and Lily had co-written the bloody will with him in the room after all, Rosa was to go to Alice and Frank in the instance of both of their deaths, that fact was indisputable.

It was quiet for a moment, and Sirius got to sit there calmly as the gentle breeze wafted into the room from the open window. Turning to the sound of footsteps, he watched with widening eyes as a person appeared in the door, looking a tad bit older than before and clearly frazzled, but shockingly familiar all the same.

“Snivellus?”

* * *

The police station was sterile and white, a scattering of muggles sitting stiffly in uncomfortable looking chairs and whispering to each other quietly, the fluorescent bulbs overhead washing out all shadows and making his eyes burn from the artificiality. Severus grimaced, the muggle world was always so bleached out and impersonal, it made him feel stifled and in desperate need of a good mess. Perhaps this was why the magical and muggle worlds couldn’t coexist, because of the clear and striking divide between what each culture thought was a livable environment. He glanced at the plastic chairs and tired faces with a look of contempt, it seemed that wizards had a much better idea of ‘livable’ in his personal opinion.

Hermione Granger clutched his hand tightly, eyes darting around the waiting room nervously as her tongue flicked out to lick at the drying blood on her lip. She had been near impossible to deal with before he had brought up the concept of speaking with law enforcement, but had nearly sprinted off again when he finally did. Severus didn't blame her really, in fact, he sympathized with the girl, as he had never managed to gather the nerve necessary to speak out against his father-and never even considered reporting him-but Snape knew that she would be better off after being removed from such an environment. It was lucky that she seemed to realize he understood personally of her experience, or getting her to this sterile hellscape would have been like pulling teeth from a cat.

Glancing one final time around the purgatory-like building, he tugged the girl along towards the front desk, where sat a receptionist that had been eying them with suspicion. Severus half smiled half winced at the woman, who was looking down at the young girl with undisguised concern. They must have looked quite the pair, with Severus sporting barely muggle-looking clothing as it was, and the young girl absolutely soaked with rainwater and mud, bleeding from a cut on her lip and cheek heavily bruised.

He cleared his throat, the woman glancing back up at him as he did, observing his appearance with the careful eyes of someone who had seen many abusers in her life. “Good evening, I found this girl on the street. She said she was running away from home as her father had attacked her.” 

He then motioned to Granger, who was standing so still that if she hadn't tightened her hold on his hand, he would have questioned if she had just been turned to stone. The woman nodded slowly, standing from her desk and walking around it to crouch in front of Hermione, who stiffened noticeably and clutched his hand tighter. It was obvious how uncomfortable with the situation she was, and the receptionist was slow and cautious as she lightly questioned her.

“What is your name, love?”

“Hermione Granger ma’am.”

“That's a lovely name, can you tell me where you live?”

“Flask Walk-a few miles from here.”

And on and on it went, he was eventually left to sit in the uncomfortable seats available to him as the girl was led off into a separate room, no doubt to be checked over and questioned more rigorously. Severus had no idea if he was expected to stick around, but he had to return to Hogwarts in just over two hours and had yet to visit Malfoy Manor as he had promised Lucius he would do. 

_ This is what I get for butting into things, a sore arse and lost time. _

“Excuse me, sir?”

He glanced up from where he had been glairing at the mass-manufactured tiles underfoot, finding that the secretary had returned with several sheets of paper clutched in her hands. “If you wouldn't mind filling these out, we need to make an incident report.”

Severus took the paperwork and filled it out quickly, ignoring questions about personal information, as he had none in the muggle world any longer. Returning the papers to the front desk, he immediately removed himself from the sterile environment, trying not to reveal his intense dislike for the place as he nearly sprinted away. Stepping out into the open air, Severus quickly ducked into the nearest alleyway and apparated straight to Malfoy Manor, making a note to find the girl in a week or so to see what had become of her.

He spun, the world shifting and whirling with him as he did so, and nearly instantaneously was he standing at the front gate of Malfoy Manor. The home was as beautiful and perfectly trimmed as always, the few vines creeping up the old walls tasteful in their slow ascent upwards. As he stood there for a moment, he allowed the ambient magic to send a calming waves through his system. Sighing in relief, Severus made his way up to the gate, raising an eyebrow at the inward facing wards. Why had Lucius reverted the wards in such a way, he wondered? 

Shrugging slightly, he opened the gate and made his way in, listening to it close with a resounding  _ thunk. _ Strolling up the obnoxiously ornate walk to the manor, Severus was slowly put on edge. He had the distant feeling that something was not quite right, as if something bad was going on. Not only had the wards been inverted, but the garden was suspiciously void of Draco, despite it being a pleasantly sunny day in Wiltshire. He was greeted at the door by an ever-emotionless Bippity, who described the current state of affairs as being ‘what one would expect considering the circumstances’. With his blood pressure steadily rising, Severus made his way into the house, being nearly bowled over by Lucius as he did, who was on his way out.

“Luc-”

“I’m busy. Draco is attempting another escape and Cissy’s cousin is staying over for the foreseeable future.”

He was left blinking confusedly as the man ran out the door, trying to piece together the small grouping of puzzle pieces he was privy to in order to figure out what on Circe’s green earth was going on. Narcissa didn’t  _ have  _ any cousins, at least not ones that weren’t dead or missing or rotting in Azkaban. Turning back around, he made his way through the halls, searching for someone who might be able to cue him in on the household’s exploits.

“Snivellus?”

He jerked, ice filling his veins as a horribly familiar voice spoke up from the room he had nearly passed by. Gulping minutely, Severus tried to tamp down the immediate feeling of revulsion that bubbled up from his stomach, the familiar schoolyard nickname feeling foul in the air of a home he had long since considered his haven.

_ Oh Circe above, do not do this to me-not after the day I’ve had. _

Steeling himself, Severus slowly turned to his right, locking eyes with… Sirius Fucking Black. 

_ Blast it all. _

They sat there, in something of a stand-off as Severus tried to process the impossible sight before him. Black was  _ supposed  _ to be in Azkaban, holled up for Pettigrew’s crimes in the war. What in Merlin's name was he doing lounging around in Malfoy Manor of all places? Why weren't there aurors swarming the manor, attempting to break in and remove him and thusly return him to azkaban? Severus’ eyes were blown wide with disbelief as Black took a careful bite of a slice of toast, appearing almost… casual as he chewed. The man certainly looked as though he had been in Azkaban for nearly eight years, his skin sticking uncomfortably to his bones and complexion sickly and pasty. However, he hasn't changed much from how he appeared in Severus’ memories, though his eyes held a certain weariness that was completely foreign to the man’s haughty and aristocratic features. 

Both men were unknowing of exactly what they should do now that they had found themselves in this situation.

Snape righted himself, glaring menacingly down at the thin man from where he sat propped up in the bed. “Black… I was under the impression that you were imprisoned for crimes against the state...?”

He snorted, chewing his bread obnoxiously in Severus’ general direction as he did.  _ Disgusting.  _ “Funny that, I was acquitted just this morning.” He grinned wolfishly, and Severus sharpened his gaze, expression turning from shocked to some-what constipated as he sneered hatefully. “I'm sure you’d know all about acquittals though, eh Snivellus? I heard you got off scott free.”

“That does tend to happen on occasion.”

He stood there, watching Black eat with intentionally horrible table manners, and questioned if murdering the sick bastard was off the table. Sure, he had always had a rather aggressive rivalry with James Potter, but his hatred of Sirius Black ran so deep that he hadn’t felt even a glimmer of remorse for the man after his wrongful imprisonment. 

“Shame, we could have been cell-mates, I’d wager. Would’ve made dying a much quicker event, as it goes.” Black appeared to be fighting his own stomach in an effort to keep the plain meal down, and Severus watched with no little amount of glee as the man struggled with his uncooperative organs for a moment before finally choking the bread down.

“Getting to watch your corpse rot would have been a special kind of heaven, I assure you.”

Black snorted once more, setting the tray off to the side and settling back into the pillows, making a show of relaxing and such. “Always the dramatic goth, Snivellus? I would have assumed you’d have grown out of it, shame.”

“A particular taste for the macabre is a much better lifelong commitment than being a worthless excuse of humanity, Black.”

They glared at each other for a moment, steely gray eyes locked into battle with inky black, two enemies forever waging war whenever in the general vicinity of each other.

And then Black broke out into great galls of laughter.

“What, exactly, is so amusing?” He ground out, his glare heated enough to melt iron as the bastard continued to laugh himself into a ruptured spleen.

“Well?”

Black started to calm slightly, before breaking out inexplicitly in sobs. Severus took a step back, suddenly extremely uncomfortable as the man cried. Footsteps hurried along from his right, and the Lady of the house grasped his arm in a firm grip.

“Oh Sev, there you are. Hm?” Narcissa peered into the room, before rushing in and gathering the crying man up in her arms. “Shhhh… oh cousin, it's alright. You’ve had a trying week, haven’t you? It's alright, come now dear.”

Another hand grasped his arm and pulled him from the scene, Lucius tugging him along to the nearest sitting room. As they walked, Severus attempted once more to piece together the confusing puzzle that had been laid out before him. It was not…  _ impossible  _ for Black to be acquitted, but certainly one of the more unlikely things to happen. Though, after the past week, Severus supposed anything could be set on the table.

“I was curious how long it would take, the pure adrenaline he was running on was bound to dissipate, and then he was sure to be something of a wreak.”

He glanced to Lucius, who had spoken abruptly and with little cause. “Pardon?”

The man nodded to where they had come from, opening the door for him as he did so. “Black, he’s been running around for the past hour or so just fine, I was half convinced he hadn't even been to azkaban with how well he had been taking the sudden shift. As it is, I'm almost relieved he finally broke down.”

Severus nodded slowly, settling down on a nearby couch as he did so. It was common for prisoners who had been removed from Azkaban to experience several hours of euphoria before reality caught up with them. Black’s sudden change in demeanor was not unexpected for his experiences. “So he was truly acquitted then? How did he manage that?”

Lucius chuckled, “I believe that the minister and Amelia Bones were the main perpetrators. I doubt Black had even seen another soul till just last week when Bagnold had gone and interrogated him in azkaban.”

Severus leaned back into the couch, a thoughtful expression plastered across his face. On one hand, he still didn’t have the full picture of what had been going on in the household, but on the other he didn’t feel nearly invested enough in Sirius Black’s life to particularly care. It was interesting that the minister herself had gotten involved, but it was hardly any of his business what happened to Black now, he was more than happy to put his schoolyard bully behind him. “As fascinating as that is, I didn't set aside six hours of my day to gossip.”

The other man sighed, handing Severus a glass of brandy as he settled down onto the opposing couch. “Right, you wanted more details on the squib experimentations, yes?”

He nodded, sipping the alcohol as Lucius seemed to age five years in a matter of seconds. “My grandfather was... one of the cruelest people I ever had the displeasure of meeting, to be rather blunt.” He swirled the drink around in his glass, contemplating memories long-since buried. “I don't remember much of the real man, but his painting is such a twisted and pathetic excuse of humanity that I've had it locked up in the family vault for years, along with the other disappointments. It had been my hope to quietly put the experiments in the past, but if what you say is true… Septimus hadn't been nearly as thorough with his-erm…  _ cleanup, _ than was believed.”

Severus contemplated his next words carefully, not quite sure how hard he should push an obviously sensitive topic. “I managed to find the girl again today-running away from home as it was. Apparently her parents are convinced she’s possessed, ironically I'd say they’re half right.” Lucius appeared intrigued, if warry. He pressed on, “she was actually rather intelligent-quiet bright and bookish if I had to guess, and once she calmed down and started to talk she revealed herself to be surprisingly brilliant for a child so crassly running away from home.” Taking a sip from his brandy, Severus contemplated the enigma that was Hermione Granger. The demon latched onto her seemed to be more magic than an actual entity, as it reacted only to her own emotions and needs, rather than any sort of agenda it might possess. Though, it was at least somewhat sentient, as it had been able to distinguish his intent towards the girl in the two occasions they had crossed paths, the first being mostly anger and the second being a desire to help. “She had obviously lived in a stifling environment, and the black magic had reacted to that by protecting her from physical and emotional harm, it was quite fascinating really-but I'm getting ahead of myself.” Waving an arm, he polished off the drink, setting the crystalline glass onto the coffee table between them. “I found it prudent to take her to the muggle authorities and that was the end of it, I have no doubt that she will be removed from her present home and move on with her life.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed, “but there's more to it than that, isn't there.”

Severus gathered his wits, mind clouded with possibilities of the future and knowledge of the present. “I find it unlikely that Rosa Potter will be found, and if she is, it is even more doubtful that she will be placed in your care.”

“Your point?”

He rolled his eyes, “it isn’t advanced transfiguration, Lucius, if you really want to take in the girl-who-lived for the express purpose of elevating your family’s status, then you can do the exact same just as easily by taking in an abused muggleborn. Use your head.”

Lucius glowered, settling his glass down onto the table as well, his shoulders taunt and eyes steely. “Say what you will, but there are some lines that are difficult to cross.”

Politics played a considerable part in the man’s decisions, that was obvious, and Lucius wanted Rosa Potter in his corner for that particular reason, as she would no doubt allow several avenues to open up for the Malfoys that were otherwise blocked off. A muggleborn-no matter how brilliant-wouldn't have the same kind of sway. “Of course, I suppose I should go tell the girl that the descendant of the man responsible for all her strife wishes for her to continue suffering?”

“If you truly wish to do so, then I have no qualms with your actions. I doubt I'll ever see the chit as it is.”

“Well, she is Draco’s age, so I'd wager they’ll be in the same year in the very least.” He smirked, “it would be awfully unfortunate if the girl was sorted into the same house as your own son, hm?”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “You’re guilting me.” It wasn't a question.

“Very effectively, I'm sure.”

“The quintessential slytherin as always, eh Severus?” The man sighed, running a hand down his cheek in thought. “I have no idea what Cissy would say in regards to this little stunt of yours, as it was her initial wish to help the girl that led me down this path. Truthfully, the first step in deciding anything would be for her to meet the girl.”

Severus considered that the best he was going to get. “I'll check in on Miss. Granger in a week, and bring Narcissa along to meet her then.”

Sirius Black aside, there was truly nothing he could do for the girl besides try to find her a pleasant enough home to live in. It was obvious that she would need to be taught magic suppression if she ever hoped to roam the streets of magical Britain without someone attacking her for the ambient black magic, and if anyone could equip her with the necessary skills to go about such a thing, it would be the Malfoys.

“This is a tight rope you’re walking Severus, I hope you can manage it.”

“I've walked along a thin string of wool for much of my adult life Lucius, this is hardly comparable.”

* * *

The midday sun was high in the sky that day, blazing with a kind of ferocity that made those caught under the open sky wince, and apologize kindly to the blazing inferno overhead. The High Queen sat at the highest point of Elphame, soaking up the star’s unyielding heat with no little amount of glee, spinning around with her head thrown skywards, taking in all the sunlight she could, as if a sunflower thriving among wilting moonflowers. Every other creature however, from large to small, hid away in the safety of their homes, drinking cool beverages as they lounged about on that long summer day.

Light streamed in from between hanging leaves, the low, melodious singing of the High King breezing through the medical room, gently kissing her ears and tickling her nose. Rosa peaked her eyes open from where she sat under a small tree, glancing over her shoulder to watch Fin weave music into magic, his hands working methodically to entwine happiness in the twisted red dandelion that held the soul shard. It was slow going, trying to suck all the hatred from the poor thing, but Fin felt so much sympathy for the little lost shard of soul that he felt it prudent to heal it best he could. As it was, the dandelion was less wilted than it had been on first contact with the soul shard, but the twisted, angry red had yet to soothe itself.

“This means that the soul is angry-very angry.” Fin had explained, faintly brushing a calloused finger across the wilted red petals as he did. Rosa had tilted her head in thought, watching the poor little thing as he attempted to comfort it. She had no idea how one soul could become so angry and broken that only a small little shard of hatred remained, but she pitied it terribly. No one should be forced to live in such a horrid way, stewing and seething and doing nothing but sitting in their own abhorrence for the world.

Quietly, trying not to disturb Fin as he worked, Rosa crept to her feet and made her way to the man’s desk, balancing on top of exposed tree roots and jumping along the moist earth as she carved a careful path through the underbrush. As she went, the soil began turning from mossy dirt to the dirty tiles of the more sterile section of the medical wing, and she began skipping through the now potted plants as she narrowed the distance between herself and her destination. With one final jump, she landed solidly in front of the desk, leaning forward with wide, curious eyes as Fin sang to the little dandelion. Cracking an eye open, he grinned slightly at her before returning his focus to the soul shard, acknowledging that she was there but not halting his ministrations.

She peered closer, watching his soft blue magic spin threads of light around the wilted flower, attempting to coax it into a calmer state of being, with slow to little luck. While the dandelion had seemed to perk up slightly, turning from curled up and shriveled to something slightly less pathetic, there was no other outward change to it, and Rosa quickly started to wonder if the soul could even be fixed. 

“Fin?” She whispered, watching as he peaked both eyes open, his singing lowering to a meer whisper as he focused more onto her. “Do you really think the soul can be saved? Nothing’s happening…”

He smiled gently, his singing tapering off completely as the little tendrils of magic receded into nothingness. “Everything can be fixed given enough time Rosa, but that amount of time can vary from mere months to millions of years. Souls will always heal themselves over time, and as they move on from the lives they once lived, they will start to be cleansed of the negative and positive things that made them who they had been in the first place. Fae are just able to isolate one such thing about a soul, and dissipate it on their own-much faster than what would happen naturally. Any of us can heal a soul of it’s most damaging attributes if given the right instruction, and I am one such person who is privy to the art of soul healing.” 

He turned back to the dandelion, transferring it from the open air and back into its glass prison to be worked with another day. Gathering up the rest of his equipment, he cleaned up and settled things into their correct places around the room.

“The right instruction?” she echoed, following after the man as he strode over to where the soul had been resting for the past few months, that being a particularly tall shelf that she would have no hope of reaching. “What do you mean by that?”

He smiled at her, reaching down and lifting her up into his arms. “Well, I wasn’t just born with the ability to heal, I had to learn it from someone.”

She made an ‘ohhhh’ sound, watching as he carried her back to the tree she had been meditating under, where Thimble and Rhiannon napped on leaves above her head. Settling her back down in the mossy crook of the tree, he poked her nose playfully. 

“Do you think you would be interested in healing, little rose?”

She giggled, swatting at his hand. “Not really, but Sidithe is really beautiful, I would love to learn every magical language… ever!”

His eyes widened, “well, I could certainly help with that, if you truly wish to learn the native tongue. Would you like to learn the Old Words as well?”

She gasped excitedly, nodding her head vigorously and clutching at his much larger hands. “Yes! Oh won't you teach me please?”

Fin laughed lightly, “of course! I would be more than happy to teach you how to speak Sidithe, though I must warn you that learning to read it is far more difficult than speaking it.”

“Oh but I’ve already done that, it wasn't so hard.”

He blinked, “you have?”

She nodded, smiling up at him as if it was no particularly large task. “I spent a few weeks obsessing over it, but I can read all the non-translatable books in the library just fine now!”

He nodded carefully, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do about that new information. “Well… I would be happy to teach you how to speak it then, if you have already learned the grammar and alphabet.”

“Pinky promise?”

Gentle waves splashed her face playfully, the feeling of salty magic tickling her cheeks making her giggle. Fin held out a pinky with a serious look plastered across his face. “Of course.”

Rosa smiled, hooking her pinkie around his as if shaking hands in an important business proposition. Settling back against the cool trunk of the tree, Rosa let go and watched Fin climb to his feet, mauvering back to the shelf and desk, no doubt about to return to his healing of the soul shard despite setting it away. Sighing lightly, she glanced up to the canopy where her two little friends slept softly, watching as the leaves swayed in an invisible breeze. There was always a gentle wind blowing through each room in the palace, even in places where there was no wind. Rosa suspected that one of the past royals had wind magic, and had managed to leave their lasting impression on the castle upon their passing.

She stretched, before getting comfortable against the tree’s trunk once more, settling in as her magic reached down to grasp it’s delicate roots. That is how she filled the rest of her day, sitting under the tree and encouraging its magic to create a connection with her. That was the first step of growing in magical strength, creating a connection. Una had done it with the sun and every little star in the sky, Fin had done it with every body of water in Elphame, and so she too would do it with every little twig of flora she could. She would connect herself to the infinite root system that made up the capital city, her magic reaching out and tapping into the infinite forest that surrounded her.

Every little dandelion would be a part of her, every tiny blade of grass and every trillion year old tree. That was her wish, to be connected to it all irrevocably, and Rosa was not known for cutting corners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The will(s): I doubt anyone wanted Sirius to raise Rosa, including Sirius. Remus was also out because of his 'furry little problem' and Peter was described as being not particularly well off and probably wouldn't have been able to care for her. Frank and Alice were friends of all of them, an established couple already, and had a kid only a day older than Rosa, it made the most sense to me honestly. Also, Sirius has no idea that they were both tortured into insanity, which is why he isn't brushing off that possibility as... impossible.
> 
> Muggle world and modernism: Looking at the general aesthetic of the magical world, I am a firm believer that magicals likely hate modernism with a burning passion. I mean... look at it! Sure, there are the oddballs like Arthur Weasley, but the magical world is so chock full of absurdity and-well... magic, that it seems doubtful that those who live constantly in a magic-rich environment don't feel extremely uncomfortable in the fluorescent hell that is 90% of modern buildings. Have you ever seen a public high school in america before? Those poor bastards would be on the floor screaming out as if their eyes were burning the second someone showed them a lit lightbulb.
> 
> Severus and Sirius' reunion: Since the confrontation was from Snape's eyes, the perception of who Sirius is as a person was naturally skewed to how Snape sees him. Due to this, Sirius is perhaps more antagonistic than he has been characterized as being previously, this was intentional to show how he is perceived by someone who still sees him as a bully and general piece of shit. This isn't to say that Sirius was every really like that to the people he cared about, but he was ABSOUTLY like that with snape, so that's why he's perceived that way.
> 
> Sirius' breakdown: it isn't shown in great detail because I don't think snape would be particularly inclined to describe it as anything but relatively uncomfortable/unsightly, but it will be touched on in the next chapter from a more... emotionally empathetic point of view.
> 
> Horcrux and Voldemort's anger: this one I thought was pretty obvious, but Tom Riddle is one angry bastard. His soul and mind are completely bonkers and he likely has maybe... idk like 1/4 of a braincell bouncing around in there. With the soul shard in Rosa's head being (presently) the smallest, I interpreted it to being mostly just the pure emotion and fury of Voldemort trying to kill his prophesied destroyer and failing quite spectacularly at it. As it is, I don't find it unrealistic to think that the fae would be able to heal souls, and while Rosa isn't particularly interested in the practice presently, she might find reason to delve further into it on a later date ;)


	9. A Slytherin and A Hufflepuff Walk into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An absurd request for a meeting dissolves into perhaps the greatest ploy of all time, as an age old question is finally answered: what would come of a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff working together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Italics in quotations mark the use of another language, italics without quotations are thoughts or emphasis.

Hermione Granger sat behind a desk much too large for her frame, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane as the policeman in front of her watched with concerned eyes. The man was nice enough, introducing himself as Officer Lewis and giving her a warm blanket to wrap around herself. The receptionist lady named Mary had been much kinder however, and the man’s baton strapped to his belt made her considerably more nervous than the woman’s lanyard had. As it was, Officer Lewis had brought her a donut and hot chocolate in a commendable effort to gain her trust, and Hermione was positive that he meant her no outward harm in any way, and was likely just trying to do his job and write a daily report so he could return home at the end of the day. 

“Now Miss. Granger, I know you’re tired after answering all these questions, but I was hoping you would happen to know the full names or perhaps the phone number of any relatives besides your parents? It would help a great deal in finding the proper place for you to stay while we investigate.”

She took a small sip of her hot chocolate, contemplating the officer's words. Her mum never spoke of her parents, as they had died many years prior due to a rather nasty car crash. Her father’s parents however, were very much alive and really quite fun. She narrowed her eyes at the table, Hermione now had several avenues in which she could travel. On one hand, she loved her paternal grandparents very much, and always found staying at their home to be an utter delight. On the other, she didn't want to go so far away from London that Mr. Snape was unable to find her in the case of his ‘acquaintances’ deciding to foster her.  _ Idiot, he has magic, it's likely he knows how to find anyone rather easily.  _ She set the cup down, reaching for the donut as she did. Hermione also suspected that one of her grandparents in particular was just odd enough to be a possible ‘squib’ as Mr. Snape put it, and wished to interrogate her grandmother on the possibility of her having been a part of the immoral experimentations that had spawned her shadow into existence. 

“My grandparents are named Harold and Aoife Granger, I'm afraid that I do not know the number of their landline, but I am aware that they live in Glos, if that helps at all officer.”

The man nodded slowly, jolting down what she said onto a small notepad, the sound of pen scratching against paper echoing through the otherwise silent room. She glanced about at the white walls and white tiled floor and cold, metal desk in front of her and wished very suddenly that she was anywhere but here.

“Alright Miss. Granger, we’ll give them a call. Till then though, it might be necessary to have you stay with a friend.”   
“I don't have friends, sir.”

Her words were blunt, and had an undercurrent of bitterness that was palpable to even the densest of people, and the officer sighed in understanding. Of course the weird girl with potentially abusive parents didn't have any friends, she was obviously odd in some manner of speaking, and children were cruel.

“Alright then lass, we’ll try to get your grandparents on call as soon as possible. Do you mind staying in here for a little while longer?”

She glanced around at the barren walls and washed out tiles. “Not at all sir.” She did mind, but Hermione needed time alone to think, and being pleasant and amenable would get her to those moments of solitude much faster. The man rose, quickly leaving the room and by extension leaving her sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair and munching unhappily on her donut. She watched the door shut with a click, and set the shugary monstracity back down on the napkin accompanying it, glaring distastefully at the equally unhealthy drink that she had been saddled with.

_ This entire situation is utterly preposterous. _

Not only had she ran (rather foolishly) away from home, but she had been caught by a random man on the street, who spoke of black magic and demons and magical worlds and she had-like a fool-actually  _ listened  _ to him. Not even that, she had willingly let the unknown magic man buy her a sandwich and offer to find a family willing to foster her, just like that! It was utterly absurd, random people on the street had none of the credentials necessary to be able to place her in a different home, there were regulations and trial periods and a million other things that would need to happen before something like that was even conceptualized! But she had been swept up in the  _ magic  _ that was proven to quite obviously exist, and had barely even contemplated the absurdity of what she was experiencing.

Hermione groaned, rubbing both hands down her face as she slouched down onto the cold desk, only moderately mindful of her now bandaged cheek and lip. In all the completely idiotic choices she had made that day, the decision to follow Mr. Snape to the police was most certainly the dumbest. She had had  _ no  _ idea where he was really taking her, he could have secretly been a creep or a child molester or something and was planning on throwing her in the back of a white van, never to be seen again.

“Idiot. Idiot.  _ Idiot!”  _ The knowledge that Mr. Snape was actually just a rather sour man with good intentions and not, well, a child molester or some such was certainly a relief, and most certainly her saving grace, but it followed with the sudden realization that not every conversation with an adult on the street would go so smoothly for her in the future. If he had been anyone but who he was, then her ease in which she trusted him would have surely come back to bite her in the arse almost immediately. As it was, Hermione  _ highly  _ doubted that she would be this lucky with the next random stranger that she crossed paths with. It was already extremely lucky of her to have somehow made such an important connection with a (supposed) professor at a world renowned magical school after all, she doubted such fervent luck would grace her until god himself descended to earth.

_ Does the proven existence of demons prove that God too exists on some plane? _

The idea sent her into a tizzy, her curiosity altering her focus from one topic to the next as if spinning on a disk. Sure, she was catholic, and believed wholeheartedly in God (though she was a firm believer in her personal theory that He despised her in some form or another), but science had proved time and time again that all that was above the clouds was 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, and other trace elements, and certainly no god or angels. However, this knowledge brought up the concept of God perhaps existing on a separate plane of existence, on a different level of understanding that was impossible to grasp. If a demon was able to reside in her own shadow, which was simply an ever-changing spot in which her body blocked direct light from reaching the ground, then it was possible for other beings to exist in figments like it. Shadows were not  _ substance,  _ you could not hide something in them as they were a figment, not a thing. Of course, her demon proved her wrong in that respect as well.

_ Could the multiverse theory be proven this way? _

Hermione Granger knew that ‘muggles’ had no proven way to test if other dimensions or universes existed parallel or in-between or  _ inside  _ of their own, which meant that magicals had to know  _ something.  _ If they had managed to hide away from muggles for almost all of human history in such a way that magic was referred to as fantasy and not much more, then it was perfectly plausible to hypothesize that they knew some way to hide in plain sight. Or, of course, they had found how to reach a dimension or universe that was out of reach of muggles, and exploited that for their own uses.

“Which means that God can potentially exist on another level of understanding that may surpass the physical and mental abilities of common wizards and witches.” The idea had credence, and Hermione quickly filed it away as ‘to be tested and questioned thoroughly at a later date’.

Looking suddenly up from where she had been glairing intensely at her quickly cooling hot chocolate, Hermione watched as the door opened and Officer Lewis returned, looking considerably less tired and with a skip in his step.

“Good news Miss. Granger, your grandparents were easy enough to contact, and are happy to take you in for the foreseeable future. They should be here to get you in about five hours.”

* * *

The sun woke to birdsong, as she always did.

The days stretched on in blissful eternity as trees effortly reached for the heavens, nurturing sunlight and refreshing water reaching down and up to urge them on. The balance between enough nutrients to grow and enough energy to flourish was one that had been long since perfected, the rings of bark slowly growing till there were far too many for anyone to hope to count in a normal lifetime, and the task far too tedious for those with infinite ones. Stretching out across this seemingly infinite forest were trees upon groves upon fields of trees. Some grew to relative heights before stagnating, their roots betting choked by their older brethren. Many grew to encompass such a wide range of area that entire towns could be built inside of them, towns of which any human could easily live in, the trees so wide and encompassing that they stretched miles upon miles of space.

Under one such tree sat a little girl, a girl who’s eyes shone bright with power, and who’s hands pressed diligently against the trunk. The girl could not see the beginning or end to the tree, her eyes too limited in range to ever be able to fully fathom the tree’s nearly unfathomable girth. 

Her magic however, was much more privy to that knowledge.

Rosa pressed her hands harder into the bark, feeling her tendrils of emerald green magic branch out and test the waters, breaching decades upon millennium upon eons of tree rings, flowing deeper and deeper into the old wood. It was impossibly vast-the vastness of space being the only thing she could find equatable. Rosa wished suddenly, that she had practiced a slight amount of caution in her exploits, pulling her magic back into her body as she did. She had simply been connecting with too little things for too little of time, the massive Tree of Life was not equatable in any sense of the word… besides being a tree, she supposed. 

“Have you seen reason now, poppet?”

She glared at Thimble, who smiled kindly and pretended to not feel superior for her jab. “I'll be able to do it eventually, Ree’s statement about it being impossible is still untrue.”

Rhiannon scoffed from where she sat on a fallen branch some ten feet away. “It's the Tree of Life! Connecting to it would connect you to eternity itself, Rosa. Even as magically powerful as you have proven yourself to be, that kind of knowledge would likely make a human-no, even a fae go insane!”

Rosa huffed, that was the exact reason she wanted to try! The faerie realm was impossibilities incarnate, saying that something was beyond comprehension there was like saying the sky wasn't blue. The absurdity of the statement was insulting to her inquisitive mind, and her own capabilities argued feverishly against such an idea. Rosa  _ knew  _ she would be able to do it, maybe not now, or even a thousand years in the future, but she’ll find a way one way or another.

“I suppose I’ll just have to go mad then.” But that was for another time, Rosa had proved that connecting to the tree of life was improbable in her current condition, it would be a waste of time to continue to attempt it at her current age and strength.

_ “Rosa? Come… child.” _

A familiar voice rang out with a foreign tongue, one that she had been working hard to consider familiar. Turning, Rosa scrambled up and began descending the massive roots, working her way through eons of history in her effort to reunite with Una.

_ “Here!” _

Her feet finally hit the dirt, and she broke out into a fast sprint towards the wondrous woman who stood at the treeline, which housed much smaller but still utterly massive trees branching out from the Tree of Life. The First Tree, or what was now called the Tree of Life, was the first seed in a barren wasteland of infinite soil, and with its planting by unknowable forces the Mother sprang into being. The Tree then grew with the Mother, spreading its leaves further as she grew in strength, and water and sunlight and fertilizing soil all sprang up with the sapling, working vigorously to breed life into the slowly blooming world. 

Quickly after that, the very first nymphs sprang from its trunk, the thin tree a meer pinprick in a expansive plane of nothingness. The nymphs had quickly gotten to work, nurturing the tree and by extension the Mother until it had grown tall and proud. When this happened, the Tree dropped down seeds to the nymphs, who dutifully spread far away from where the tree sat, miles away in an attempt to have new little trees of life spring up. This coincidental placement allowed the Tree to grow with a fever unknown to the nymphs, and as the bringers of life crept tiredly into the bark of each tree they planted, waiting for the day that they would once again be called upon to do the Mother’s work, the Tree grew to be as tall and beautiful as it was today.

When thousands upon millions of years finally passed, and when the tree was near a kilometer wide, the first fae were born from the now massive trunk, the nymphs returned once more-only once more-to explain the world the fae had inherited. Once that was well said and done, they retreated back into the massive oaks that now ran a careful border around the Tree of Life, never to wake again from their eternal slumber.

Rosa wanted very much to meet the nymphs, but they had been sleeping for far too long, and wouldn't wake just for her.

“Now what were you doing out here, little rose?”

Rhiannon piped up before Rosa could get a word off, still awfully miffed about the entire expedition. “It was simply dreadful your majesty, Rosa believes she will be able to connect with the Tree! Have you ever heard something so foolhardy and preposterous before?”

Rosa glowered, and stuck out her tongue as Una laughed gently. “Well of course. Now Rosa, you shouldn't attempt something like that until your magic is assured that it will succeed. Promise me you won't attempt it again till reaching your majority.” Her face was stern, but held a gleam of curiosity that Rosa immediately picked up on. Smiling, she nodded dutifully. “I promise.”   
Rhiannon appeared on the cusp of cardiac arrest, her worry palpable in the air as Thimble comforted her gently. “Come now poppet. If the queen thinks that Rosa could do it one day, then surely it is the truth.”

“But-but it's impossible!”

Una reached down and tousled Rosa’s wild hair affectionately. “Nothing is truly impossible, it just has yet to happen.” She grasped Rosa’s hand, pulling her along and away from the tree. “Impossible just means yet to be proven possible.”

Rhiannon muttered and screeched, pulling at her hair in a vain attempt to convey her frustration. “Sometimes things just can't be done! Your majesty, please see reason, the child is tempting you with thoughts of grandeur!” Rosa giggled, Thimble rolling her eyes as Una flicked the little fairy away, muttering pleasantly about little bugs with big ideas. Rhiannon let herself tumble in the air for a moment, before righting herself and floating glumly along behind the procession. Rosa laughed outright to this display, sticking her tongue out at the somber fairy in mock victory, receiving a gentle pinch to her cheek by a mildly chastising Una in response.

“Come now little rose, let's not mock the lesser beings, it will lower us to their tiny level.” Una’s voice held a teasing quality, her words holding nothing but obvious sarcasm as they dripped like morning dew from her lips. Rhiannon played along with gusto, darting about and pretending to be extremely insulted, occasionally glancing Rosa's direction to make sure she was still laughing along to the act.

Thimble turned to her then, mischief in her eyes and beautiful language of the fae slipping past her lips.

_ “Pretty flower…. Are, won't… find-” _

“Wait wait! Slow down, you're going too fast!” Rosa thought hard about the words, attempting to fill in the blanks in her knowledge with little avail. After Fin had announced her wish to learn sidithe, Una and her two fairies had all taken it upon themselves to occasionally quiz her on the fly, forcing Rosa to attempt speaking with them to a rather pitiful degree. However, this slow progress didnt deeter her in the slightest, and the little girl always tried her hardest to figure out what was being said. She was finding though, that learning to speak and understand the language was much harder than learning to write it, much to Fin’s amusement.

“Come now Rosa, enough games for a little while.” Una’s eyes shone with brilliance, the mischief still visible if muted by the stunning straight. “You still have the smaller groves to make your own, and many more after that before you can even think of connecting to the Tree of Life or its children. Come along dear, we have much to get done.”

* * *

Harold and Aoife Granger couldn't have been more different, in Hermione’s critical eyes. Her grandfather was the quintessential british farmer, and old man with calloused fingers and accent so thick that even she occasionally struggled to understand when he spoke. He was warm though, and kind, and got a furious look upon his face when he saw her standing in damp clothes in the police office, her cheek clearly bruised and eyes tired. His son was the one who had done the deed after all, he was reasonably furious on her behalf. 

Aoife Granger however, was poised and stiff, eyes gleaming with carefully hidden anger. Her movements assured as she checked her granddaughter over for any other slights upon her person. Aoife was very obviously from money, which made her marriage to a homely farmer even more odd to those who didn't know the woman. In truth, she was a furious free thinker, having marched with every single one of the oppressed through her long life, even as her joints grew stiff and muscles tired, she always pressed on. 

“Are you alright luv?” Her clipped Oxford accent did nothing to mask the obvious concern in her eyes, and Hermione smiled shakily in return, the day's events finally catching up to her. 

“I'll manage maman, I'm sure.” Her voice was watery, and she barely managed to keep it all in till she had been shepherded out of the bleached building into her grandfather’s old truck, the seats worn and familiar as she laid down across them.

“That boy… I'll have him whipped Harold, just you watch me.” Hermione curled up under a warm blanket supplied to her in the back seat, listening to her grandmother rant on about what was proper and what was utterly crass, Harold Granger nodding along with vigor as his wife made her intentions toward her son quite clear. “I don't care that he is in his forties, the man deserves a good spanking.” And on and on it went.

Hermione curled in on herself letting the tears finally fall as quiet hiccups escaped her, the sound being muffled by her grandmother’s plans for revolution and revenge against her own child.

Her mind settled, the rocking motion of the old truck soothing her. Quick as a snowstorm blowing through the alps, Hermione fell asleep. 

She dreamed, not of castles upon a cliff or wizards of old, but of green eyes and mischievous smiles. Hermione dreamed of palaces carved out of crystal and trees that brushed the heavens. She didn't know why she dreamed of these things, or why those green eyes were seared into her mind as she woke, so she set it all aside as inconsequential, her mind slowly returning to the waking world as if floating along from one cloud to the next.

Hermione woke to warmth gently cradling her, her grandfather's calloused hands a welcome familiarity. She sighed, pressing farther into his worn jacket as evening birdsong filled the air. She had slept the entire trip it seemed, and she peaked her eyes open to take in the old farm house, its red brick as faded and worn as always.

She yawned, the sound notifying her grandfather to her waking, in which he settled her down onto her own feet lightly, patting her down as if made of hollow glass. Hermione allowed it without even a hint of indignation, too exhausted with the day to make a fuss about anything.

Warm firelight brushed across her face as she was led to the hearth, where she was then wrapped with blanket after blanket. Her clothes had long since dried, but the warmth was a comfort if nothing else.

“Maman?” she whispered, leaning into the woman as her grandfather pottered around in the kitchen, no doubt fixing some tea.

“Yes luv?”

“I met a strange man today, and he told me something.”

She felt her grandmother shift slightly, hands brushing through her ever-untamable trestles. “What did he tell you?”

Hermione physically collapsed into the woman, and whispered quietly of a shadow which moved of its own volition, of strange things happening whenever she got angry, of the shadow lashing out against anyone who opposed her. Hermione spoke of Mr. Snape and how he lamented of Hogwarts and of the Global Wizarding War, of ‘squib’ experimentations and the horrors they entailed. And when she was done with her explanation, when the tea sitting in her hands had long since cooled, Hermione looked up to her grandmother’s pale face and whispered four damning words that she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the answer to.

“How did you escape?”

* * *

**One Week Later:**

Amelia Bones stared up at the classy estate with no little amount of trepidation. When Lucius Malfoy’s infamous and incredibly morbid dracula parrot breezed into her office, its distinct black and red coloring stark against a crisp letter, she knew that things were getting out of hand. Sure, she understood that the poor sod had Sirius Black camping out at his manor for merlin knows how long, and likely wished to get on better terms with the head of the DMLE while she had very obviously defended his cousin-in-law in court, but that was no reason to send a letter requesting her counsel about a ‘certain matter of great irritation’. However, the letter-if incredibly sarcastic and subtly condescending-held words of potential political ruin, and she couldn't help but her interest being piqued.

This is why she stood outside of Malfoy Manor, proper dress robes crisply pressed to perfection and face void of all her inner turmoil, well practiced occupancy barriers firmly in place.

“Oh what am I getting myself into?” She whispered to the wind, hoping for an answer but being unsurprised when there was none. Amelia straightened her spine, no family-no matter how rich and powerful and potentially (but not proven to be) dark-would make her cower in their presence. The Bones family was respected and well off, there was nothing for her to fear from a family of mildly higher standings. 

She approached the gate, and it swung open easily for her. Walking down the path with fluid motion, Amelia glanced down after hearing a quiet pop, finding a stiff house elf walking along her left, its arms folded behind its back and eyes staring firmly ahead.  _ As if marching.  _ She thought with no little amount of interest, finding house elfs to generally be of the meeker sort, what did the Malfoys do to instill such boldness in their elves, she wondered?

Upon reaching the large front doors to the manor, the elf marched ever forward and pulled them open, leading her into an impressive foyer, which appeared far from what she expected of the place. Sure, Amelia had never been one for galas, and had yet to go to one of the infamous Malfoy Yule Balls, she had expected a place more suited to the families past of dark magic, instead of their infamous… hair? She eyes the white walls and marble tiles with interest, surely the house had been recently renovated to have been modernized to such an extent? The tiling in the very least appeared up to the current standards of magical interior taste. 

“Madam Bones will be following Bippity now.” She nearly jumped at the elf’s hard tone, glancing down to the militant creature with wide eyes.

“Oh of course, I'm terribly sorry.” She was then led through various halls, all sporting tasteful elizabethan-era accents and chrisp, dainty furniture. Amelia started to question if the Lord Malfoy had been the one to renovate, or it was his wife who had insisted on it. Either way, the home was several leagues ahead of all other ancient homes that she had ever been invited to.

They stopped in front of an ornate door, and Amelia relaxed her shoulders, face set in the professional, cold, and mild-mannered expression that she always donned when in meetings with those who thought themselves somehow superior. The door opened, a voice from inside granting her entrance, and with a swish of her robes, Amelia entered the office.

The first thing she saw was an old desk, in which sat a rather rumpled man, who sat slumped forward in a tall leanback chair. She glanced around at various walls of bookshelves and nick-nacks, settling down on a chair across from the Lord Malfoy as she did.

“Good evening, Lord Malfoy.”

Instead of regarding her formally, the man simply continued to read vigorously over a stack of parchment, merely grunting at her greeting.

“Lord Malfoy?”

The papers hit his desk with a  _ thawack,  _ and the man fell back into his chair with an exhausted groan. She blinked, glancing around at the various papers that were strewn across the desk. Had he been sleeping?

“Madam Bones, what is the protocol for guardianship fraud?”

She blinked once more, “and what brings on the sudden interest?”

“I have credence to believe that Dumbledore has committed several accounts of fraud and possibly murder.”

“...Pardon?”

He nodded in apparent confirmation, as if what he just said hadn't been utterly absurd. “Sirius Black received correspondence with Gringotts four days ago, which revealed that the Potters' wills were available for viewing.”

Amelia watched the exhausted Lord across from her with undisguised horror. “You are aware, Lord Malfoy, how utterly insane you appear to me at the current moment.”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he passed her all his notes. “I truly wish I could say that I was insane, but this letter, as well as other documents that I have uncovered, can hardly be argued against.” She peered down at the paper he handed her with hardly a moment's hesitation, devouring the words written by an overworked goblin as if they were scriptures burned into rock by God himself.

**Heir Sirius Orion Black,**

**Gringotts has accepted your request to view the will(s) of James Fleamont and Lily J. Potter at your own convenience. The will(s) will be brought from the archives and unsealed upon your attendance and proper identification at Gringotts during any of the constituted open hours. We await your reply.**

**-Gringotts Wizarding Bank.**

“This arrived here from Gringotts four days ago then? And you wrote to me only the day after?”

Malfoy nodded, “Black had written to Gringotts three days ago on the promptings of my wife. This arrived over dinner only a few hours later.”

There was nothing particularly damning about the letter, except for-well-everything enclosed in it. The first concern was that Black was actually allowed rights to hear the will, which meant that he was somehow mentioned in it. Even as he had been incarcerated, the contents of the will would have had to be added to his file in the very least, depending on what he received. If all he got was money, then Black wouldn't have been allowed to view the will, as the ministry would have immediately confiscated all monetary funds he gained, so he had to play a rather integral part of the will if he was still allowed to view it.

The next issue was not that surprising: the wills had been sealed. It was more of a confirmation than anything, as Dumbledore had practically stated that he had kept them locked away.

She grimaced, that brought on the third, and most worrying, part of the letter.

Dumbledore had been quite obvious about the wills having been placed in the Potter  _ vault, _ not Gringotts archives. The change of placement could mean very different things for the wills, as if they had been placed in the vault, it would have been clear that only her magical guardian or perhaps Rosa herself could even retrieve them. However, if they were placed in the archive, then either Dumbledore had been confident in the goblins keeping them from magical eyes or…

“Is it possible he doesn't actually have Rosa Potter’s guardianship?” Amelia looked intensely at Lord Malfoy, who continued to rub his eyes with frustration and exasperation.

“That hardly matters in the end, because we have an even bigger problem than this measly slip of paper.”

She raised an eyebrow, “which is?”

“Black knows exactly what is in the wills, because he was in the room while they were being written, and he says that there were six people lined up ahead of Dumbledore before he was to be granted custody.”

That was…  _ very  _ suspect. “Who were these people?”

“First in line were the Longbottoms,” she winced, “then your brother, Edgar-apparently he was rather close to them, next was Sirius Black, followed by Minerva McGonagall, then... Severus Snape, of all people. The second to last was Dumbledore, preceded only by Lily’s muggle sister named Petunia, who was supposed to be used as a ‘desperate last resort’. Black’s words, not mine.”

She sat back in her seat and thought. Sure, the Longbottoms getting tortured was likely a coincidence that couldn't be possibly considered as foul play, and her brother’s death was also unrelated to Dumbledore in any respect. Sirius Black had been inadvertently steered towards wrongful imprisonment by Dumbledore, yes, but that could hardly be considered the old bastard’s fault. The fact that two of the man’s professors-both of which were tethered by lifelong contracts-was the only things in his way of the girl was actually rather worrying. It was well known that Hogwarts teachers had a difficulty starting families due to the rules against staff’s family living on the grounds, and they would have been unable to care for Rosa Potter due to this. However, there was not any reason for McGonagall or Snape to-at the very least-accept the guardianship and then place Heiress Potter in another’s home.

She studied Lord Malfoy with careful eyes, “you have a hypothesis on this, don't you.”

He smiled grimly. “Severus hates his job. He would prefer putting his potions mastery towards a life of utter solitude and potion making than ever teaching children. I haven’t ever been able to imagine just why he took the job, and with this… I have started to wonder if he even had a choice.”

Amelia set her jaw into a hard line, contemplating the possibilities that had been laid out before her. On one hand, Dumbledore had proven to be a meddling old coot at the best of times, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that he had somehow forced all of the potential guardians out of the running by somehow either playing a hand in their deaths, incapacitations, incarcerations, or inabilities to take the girl. It just seemed like far too much work for one little girl, no matter how remarkable that girl happened to be.

“It just defies all logic-what you are insinuating that is. I can't find it in myself to believe he would go to such leaps and bounds to get one girl-who is quite missing and could very well be dead-under his guardianship.”

Malfoy sighed, “I was confused about that for a time myself. By all logic that I could comprehend, the only reason to truly want the girl would be the political reach her fame would allow, but he already has political power in droves.” Amelia rolled her eyes, the man’s admission revealed his own reasoning for wanting the girl in his home so desperately. Had they truly fallen so low as a society that the security and happiness of one child could be bartered with? A child’s life which had already been filled with the incomprehensible grief of becoming an orphan, along with a kidnapping and merlin knew what else?

“So why do you think he did it?”

The man’s expression darkened, a storm behind his eyes revealing knowledge not easily swallowed. “A prophecy.”

She froze, the words chilling her blood and sending warning signals spiraling through her nerves.  _ A prophecy? How could a prophecy relating to the girl-who-lived possibly slip past the ministry for eight years? _

“Explain.”

He sighed, instead reaching into his desk and pulling out a piece of paper. “I'm sure you know, but a prophecy orb can only be touched by those in which they entail, so I haven't a clue what it actually holds. This was in the archives.”   
“How did you even find out that a prophecy existed?” she questioned him in the voice of an auror, reading over the paper as she did. It detailed the making of a prophecy by one S.P.T. to an A.P.W.B.D. which concerned two individuals called T.M.R. and R.E.P.

“Black had made a passing comment about how the Potters went into hiding on the prompting of Dumbledore, and that he had gotten some sort of ‘tip’ that they would be targeted. It seemed suspicious, so I returned to the archives and requested anything bearing the man’s initials. Eventually, I found this slip of paper-well, this is a copy of it really, but the evidence is all the same.”

She stared down at the paper as if it held the secrets of the universe. S.P.T. was a current unknown, but that absurdly long initial proved that Dumbledore himself had heard whatever the prophecy entailed. She cursed under her breath, what could this blasted prophecy hold that could make Dumbledore so nervous that he had to go to such lengths to keep the girl under his thumb?

“Do you know who T.M.R. could be?” 

Looking back up to the man, she observed how he appeared briefly constipated for a moment before shaking his head. “I'm afraid that I am not familiar, though R.E.P. could only be Rosalie Euphemia Potter, which confirms the blasted thing involves the child.”

She noted his previous expression with only mild curiosity, and returned her focus to the paper, reading and rereading the entire thing at least eight times before setting it back onto the mahogany desk. _We need to fix this-no, we need to expose the entire bloody thing._

She knew that despite a prophecy, what truly mattered was what the man had done in response to it. “As fascinating and potentially damning this prophecy could be however, I'm afraid that we have more pressing concerns.”

Malfoy nodded in agreement, “his motives don't matter nearly as much as his actions.” He reached for a final stack of papers, and slid them her way. Amelia snatched them up and started to skim through it as he spoke.

“I propose something of a coup. That is that I wish to attack Dumbledore politically from all angles and get him knocked further down the ladder of influence. You are far closer to the minister than I could ever be, so I beg that you also clue her in to the concept.”

He let her read in silence for several minutes, allowing her to digest his ‘plan’ with quickly narrowing eyes.

Amelia looked up at the sneaky bastard across from her, hands clenching the paper tightly. “Not only is this utterly devious bordering on malicious, but it brushes against legality far too tightly for comfort.”

He raised an eyebrow, “what do you propose instead, then?”

Sne snatched the quill of his desk, “I first  _ request _ that you deflate that ego before I pop it like a balloon, and  _ ask _ quite plainly that you exercise restraint when regarding my constructive criticisms.”

Slytherins were coy and ambitious, but those ambitions can oftentimes overplay their subtly or-in the worst of cases-their tact. On the other hand, Hufflepuffs believe in hard work and diligent, methodical practices. They were not sullied by ideas of grandeur, nor did they have the brashness necessary to pull off such feats of ambition. 

As it was, when these two houses combined their efforts, the world tended to either tremble with fear, or quiver in excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Police in England: Now I don't really know much about the british police force, except that they absolutely do not carry guns (a few do, but those are very tiny amounts and it is extremely rare that they are actually used). Because of this, it is understood that police brutality in Britain, while still a problem, does not often entail deaths.
> 
> The dracula parrot: ok listen-this bird has to be one of the most morbid but badass looking birds I have ever laid my sweet virgin eyes on, and while I was at first EXTREMELY tempted to have it as Snape's bird of choice, I decided that Snape likely just used a school bird for convenience, and Lucius is a tad more extra than severus is, and totally would have shelled out the necessary cash to have one of them trained and shipped over from New Guinea. For the aesthetic if anything else. (If you don't know what the hell these vulture parrots look like, please google them, you wont be dissapointed).
> 
> Slytherin/Hufflepuff alliance: enough said in the chapter, the two houses only hate each other out of necessity of keeping the world in one piece.


	10. I Devise and Bequeath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is something about wills which brings out the worst side of human nature. People who under ordinary circumstances are perfectly upright and amiable, go as curly as corkscrews and foam at the mouth, whenever they hear the words 'I devise and bequeath.”  
> ― Dorothy L. Sayers, Strong Poison

Sirius looked around Gringotts with undisguised unease, watching all the magical folk go about their daily activities. Narcissa stood at his side, a comforting hand on his shoulder as he walked up to the nearest open teller. Over the past fortnite, Sirius had been spending an inordinate amount of time doing nothing but grouch at Snape as the bastard forced potions down his throat, sleep, and eat. There was not much else for him to _do_ really, the public had yet to be notified of his release or even his trial, and neither of his hosts seemed to believe that the ministry was all that keen on releasing the news if they could help it. He was slowly gaining back weight and strength, and while he felt considerably cautious of crowds, it was perfectly fine for him to go out in public now.

He didn't like it, but wanted to get well enough to start looking for Rosa, so he submitted himself to the discomfort of walking around in magical areas.

Setting a hand on the teller’s desk, Sirius cleared his throat quietly, not wanting to draw attention and be potentially recognized, the Blacks were a bunch that stayed on theme after all, and their looks were infamous, people would in the very least recognize his black hair and bone structure and immediately realise he was a Black. The goblin didn't even look up from his papers, “name and key.” 

He glanced at Narcissa, who goaded him on silently. Leaning forward slightly, he quietly spoke. “Sirius Black, I'm here to take up my lordship.”

That caught the teller's attention, as he finally looked up and observed the two of them, before grinning in a way that made Sirius extremely nervous. “Of course sir, right this way.” It was practically a purr, and he contemplated if it was too late to run back towards the apparition point and go back to Malfoy Manor. Hopping from the desk, the goblin started speeding away, and the two Blacks were forced to follow after at a fast pace, trading glances all the while. They were led to the Black family’s bank manager’s office, and told to stay put. Settling down in a seat next to Narcissa, Sirius finally relaxed in the comfort of privacy.

He groaned, rubbing his face tiredly as he spoke, voice muffled from his fingers. “Bloody Hell… I was half convinced someone would recognize me and try to attack, why couldn't I just wear a bloody glamor?”

Narcissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and settling back into the plush couch. “Goblins are quite proficient in exposing things for how they are. I don't doubt that the glamor would have fallen the second we walked in. As it is, we did apparate, I doubt anyone would have been able or particularly inclined to recognize you in those thirty seconds. You are supposedly rotting away off the coast of Scotland after all.” 

Sirius grumbled at that, glancing around the room and taking in the aggressive-looking wall decor with something akin to nostalgia. He had spent many hours in this very office with his father, listening to him drone one about the estates or the vaults and what it all meant to him as heir Black. Just as he did then, he now observed the sharp blades and cadavers with the interest of a child bored out of his bloody mind, wishing to be anywhere other than where he sat.

Suffice to say, it wasn't a pleasant nostalgia.

The door creaked open, and he reluctantly turned to see the familiar, if slightly wrinklier, goblin known as Goldtooth, the Black account manager and all around bastard. Sirius winced at the look the goblin directed his way, grumbling on about foolish wizards and idiotic ministries. This was already shaping up to be a rather terse meeting.

“Heir Black, so wonderful to see you out from behind bars, you were quite lucky you know, that you were acquitted, or the Lordship would have been unavailable to you any longer. I suppose you will make an effort to not get arrested again?” Goldtooth raised an eyebrow, leafing through papers as he did. Sirius put a considerable amount of self control in not wringing the bastard’s neck.

“I’ll put in a valiant attempt.” His voice practically dripped with sass, and Narcissa retaliated by bringing the spike of her heels down onto his foot, _hard._ He muffled a curse as she smiled kindly at the goblin.

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice Goldtooth, I understand that you are already quite busy.” Goldtooth grunted, removing a familiar ring box from his desk as he did.

“One drop of blood on the crest as proof of identity. I'm sure you know the consequences if you are, if fact, an imposter.” Gold teeth glinted in the light as the goblin grinned ferociously. Sirius rolled his eyes, the Black Lord ring was well known for its rather aggressive protection wards, of which the ministry had attempted to have removed for violating several anti-dark magic laws. Luckily for his ancestors, the enchantments had been embedded in the ring several decades before the laws in question were ever conceived, and had long since melded with the metal in a way that made them impossible to remove. Because of this, the ministry couldn’t remove the enchantments and refused to so blatantly request the ring be destroyed and a new one cast. Sirius looked at the box with trepidation, the black leather gleaming with what he could only describe as malicious intent.

He gingerly removed the box from the desk, opening it as he did, and taking a quick breath of air. The last time he had seen the Lord ring, it had been settled on the right ring finger of his father, who had watched him bolt out of the door at sixteen, leaving home for the final time.

It was just as he remembered it, with a gleaming silver band and the Black crest displayed proudly across the front. The edges around the crest were black diamonds, embedded in the precious metal and gleaming like eyes.

Sirius wasn’t certain he wanted to put it on.

“Go on then cousin, we have other things on the agenda besides your somber reflections of past mistakes.”

“Piss off, Cissy.” It had no heat, and with a sigh, Sirius took the deadly dagger from his account manager's outstretched hand, and carefully pricked his finger, watching a few drops of blood plunk against the engraved crest. Wiping the blade on his trouser leg, he set it back on the desk, watching the black diamonds gleam and vibrate-as if purring quietly. Taking that as his cure, Sirius gingerly took the ring out of its box, sliding it on his right ring finger, on the same place his father wore it. There was a sound reminiscent of a biscuit snapping, and the ring obediently shrank to fit his still skinny finger, the diamonds seming to settle back into slumber as the magic retreated.

Goldtooth looked almost disappointed, sighing as he pushed a worn piece of parchment across the desk and towards him. Sirius took it with a wary gaze, carefully reading over the contents.

“What's this then?”

Goldtooth sneered, “the house charter, Lord Black, I'm sure you can find some use for it.”

The title felt off to him, like he was being referred to as his father. Sirius wasn't quite sure what to feel about it, but settled for cautiously optimistic; after all, his mother was no doubt rolling in her grave at him becoming Lord Black.

“Right. Thanks.”

Narcissa sighed, and turned back to Goldtooth with a look that was all business. “Now that that's taken care of, we were also here about the Potters’ wills?”

The goblin nodded, rearranging papers for what felt like the tenth time as he did. “That falls under Ironclaw’s jurisdiction. I have no control over the Potter estate, though I can point you in his direction.”

Narcissa nodded, rising from her seat. “Thank you for your understanding.” Sirius quickly followed after her, taking the chicken scratch slip of paper that Goldtooth seemed to believe was passable as a map. They took two wrong turns and had to ask about twelve different Gringotts workers for directions before finally finding the bastard’s office, and by then Sirius was about ready to call it quits and leave, maybe coming back after taking a nap. Sadly, this was only the morning activities, so he pressed on and knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

Shuffling in, he took in a slightly more pleasant office and a marginally less angry goblin manning the desk.

“Sirius Black, I presume?” He nodded, holding the door open for Narcissa as she breezed into the room, her agitation over getting lost carefully tucked behind her serene expression. “Good, Lady Malfoy as well, both of you settle down.”

Sirius got comfortable in the maroon leather seating, glancing around at the mildly gryffindor decor with approval. Ironclaw, who sported hand ornaments explaining his name rather plainly, set two smooth stones down on the desk, both of which he could recognize as the wills of both Lily and James.

“Now, Mr. Black, you have been granted permission for viewing the wills despite your unfortunate detainment due to a variety of factors. However, as you have not gained permission in any respect, Lady Malfoy, I have to request that you leave the room during the viewing of the wills.”

Narcissa gave him a smile that was supposed to be reassuring and stood, leaving the room quickly and letting the door shut with a thud. Sirius took a deep breath, and turned back to center front. “Can I choose which one to listen to first?”

Ironclaw nodded, making a motion with his clawed hands that conveyed ‘be my guest’. Reaching immediately for the rock with James’ initials on it, Sirius quickly swiped a finger across the letters, activating the enchantments as he did. Near instantaneously, an apparition of James Potter revealed itself, standing right in front of him and wrenching him back into the past.

“This is the last will and testament of James Fleamont Potter.” His best friend's face was unchanged, eyes still gleaming with untold amusement and hair absurdly messy, Sirius choked back a sob, hand over his mouth as the apparition continued reading out the will. 

“I, James Fleamont Potter, now residing in the town of Godric’s Hollow in the county of Cornwall, and being of sound mind and memory and not acting under fraud, menace, duress or the undue influence of any person whomsoever, so herby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby expressly revoke any and all former wills and codicils to wills heretofore made by me.” The apparition flickered, moving on from one paragraph of useless legality to the next.

“I declare that I am married to Lily Evans Potter, and all references in this will to my wife are to her. I further declare that any references in this will to my children shall include any child of mine born from this day forward, or legally adopted. At the present time I have one child: Rosalie Euphemia Potter.” The see-though James flickered once more, and its monotone voice and flat expression changed to one of the James he knew, all the premeditated declarations out of the way.

James smiled tiredly, reflective of the exhaustion and stress he had been under during the war, Sirius tried very hard to keep his eyes clear of tears, not wanting to muck up his vision of his friend’s likeness.

“Hereunto, I devise and bequeath the entirety of the Potter fortune, including all property and share holdings, to my wife. In the instance that my wife is unable to receive this, whether it be due to death or otherwise, it will then be passed onto my eldest child. If it is found that my eldest child is also unable to receive the inheritance, be it due to being not of age or otherwise, the Potter vaults and properties are all to be sealed until my eldest child is capable of receiving them.” Sirius took a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears as he attempted to take in what was being said while also re-memorizing James’ face. The man looked worn down, speaking with some sort of tired acceptance-as if he knew that this was the end. Sirius could barely remember that day-when the wills were being recorded and finalized-only what had been put down on parchment. He couldn't recall his best friend's tired face or the look of defeat in his eyes, and now that he could observe it, he felt immediately put on edge.

“To Remus J. Lupin, I devise and bequeath 10,000 galleons and a side vault in which he may take monthly withdrawals in order to pay for wolfsbane potion for the rest of his life. To Sirius Black, I leave 10,000 galleons and my journal from the years that we spent at hogwarts. If the recipient is unable to keep his fat mouth shut about entry #394, then this inheritance is to be revoked.” Sirius barked a laugh, leaning forward and burying his head in his hands. That was… _so_ James. “To Peter Pettigrew, I leave 10,000 galleons and a side vault in which to pay for any medical expenses his mother might need in the foreseeable future.” He clenched his hands into fists, staring down at the translucent feet in front of him. Even at the very end, James trusted the rat with his life. That bastard was their friend and still turned his back on them.

_If I ever see Pettigrew again, I'll make sure he receives a very fair trial. As he deserves._

“To Minerva Mcgonagall, I leave all of my transfiguration notes, as she is the only one who has ever managed to understand my chicken scratch. To my daughter, Rosalie Euphemia Potter, I leave my invisibility cloak, and herby name her heiress to the Potter name.” Sirius finally looked back up again, taking in James’ slumped shoulders and somberly amused voice, and realized just how harrowing the war had truly been.

“In the event that I shall die as a sole parent of minor children, then I appoint Frank and Alice Longbottom as Guardians of said minor child. If this named guardian is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Edgar Bones as alternate Guardian. If this named guardian is also unable or unwilling to serve, the next-ok, Lils this is getting ridiculous, can’t I just say who I want in order?” Sirius laughed wetly, watching as James broke out of the professional drawl to turn to someone to the right. There was no spoken word from Lily, as the will stone was designed to only register the writer’s voice, but James nodded along with the unknown words anyway.

“Great-brillant. Alright, next in line after Edgar is Sirius Black, then Minerva McGonagall, then… are you really sure about this Lils?” Another beat of silence. “Fine fine, next in line is Severus Snape, even though I’m not all that happy about it.” Sirius snorted, wiping at his eyes and sitting back in his chair, watching as James laughed at something that Lily said. “Alright I get it, you ‘rekindled’, whatever. Let's see uhmm… right, after that is Albus Dumbledore, and that's the last of it. If all of these people are still unable to take my beautiful, bubbly baby girl, then she is to be placed in the foster system in the muggle world.” Sirius blinked, he remembered the last resort being Petunia Evans, did Lily and James decide to change it last minute? 

“This concludes the Last Will and Testament of James Fleamont Potter.” Quick as he came, the apparition disappeared back into the will stone, leaving Sirius mildly confused and grieving a death eight years in the past.

“Mr. Black?”

He was quiet, watching the spot his best friend vacated with quiet reflection, before speaking. “It's Lord Black now, think I forgot to mention that.”

“Ah.” Ironclaw fell silent for a moment, before quietly brushing a finger across the other stone, and Lily’s apparition burst forth from her initials. He looked up, taking in her features, remembering how Rosa had cried that night, clutched in her mother’s cooling arms.

“I, Lily Evans Potter, now residing in the town of Godric’s Hollow in the county of Cornwall, and being of sound mind and memory and not acting under fraud, menace, duress or the undue influence of any person whomsoever, so herby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby expressly revoke any and all former wills and codicils to wills heretofore made by me. I declare that I am married to James Fleamont Potter, and all references in this will to my husband are to him. I further declare that any references in this will to my children shall include any child of mine born from this day forward, or legally adopted. At the present time I have one child: Rosalie Euphemia Potter.” He rubbed his eyes one final time, watching the figure flicker once before resuming its speech.

“Hereunto, I devise and bequeath my charms research, including but not limited to: my charms textbooks, my notes, and all of my research into the capabilities of charms in duels, to Filius Flitwick, in the hopes that he will manage to do something grand with it. To Remus J. Lupin I leave all my research into a cheaper alternative to wolfsbane, in the hopes that he might be able to find something to soothe the monthly ache.” Sirius sucked in a breath, Lily had been brilliant in potions, if she had somehow found a superior alternative…

_I need to add ‘find Remus’ to my list of things to do._

“To Horace Slughorn, I leave all other potions manuscripts or notes that I have in my possession, with the wish that he continues on with my projects. Finally, the rest of my earthly possessions, both muggle and magical, are to go to my husband. In the instance that my husband is unable to receive them, whether it be due to death or otherwise, it is all to go to my eldest child.” The apparition flickered for a moment, as if Lily had stopped it to have a conversation, before it resumed.

“In the event that I shall die as a sole parent of minor children, then I appoint Frank and Alice Longbottom as Guardians of said minor child. If this named guardian is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Edgar Bones as alternate Guardian. If this named guardian is also unable or unwilling to serve, the next in line is Sirius Black. After which he is sure to drop my child several times, so I request that Minerva McGonagall be appointed guardian promptly after the fact.” He laughed outright at that, remembering distantly how Lily had been mildly bothered that he had been in line for guardian at all.

“Next in line if Professor McGonagall is unable to take my child from Sirius Black, I request that Severus Snape be appointed guardian, and that he not kill Sirius in the process, lest he be indicted and lose guardianship.” Sirius let his head fall backwards with a thunk onto the chair’s back, looking up to the ceiling and giggling quietly. Lily always knew how to be kind and courteous in her threats, it was something that made her brilliant.

“Finally, Albus Dumbledore is to be appointed if all else fails, and if he is also unable, then my child is to be placed in the foster system in the muggle world. This concludes the Last Will and Testament of Lily Evans Potter.” He looked up and watched with detachment as she faded from existence, the will stone still sitting on Ironclaw’s desk fading from gentle light and back into normalcy. Everything was quiet, before Ironclaw called Narcissa back into the room.

“Are you alright Sirius?” she laid a gentle hand on his arm, eyes searching as he stared at the spot Lily Potter just vacated.

“I’m fine.” Despite everything, he still had things to do, there was no payoff to be found sitting around in a slump. He turned to Ironclaw, eyes sharp as his slytherin upbringing gleamed through the gold and red he considered himself to be. “Ironclaw, am I still eligible to be Rosa’s guardian?”

The goblin shifted a few things around on his desk, humming as he did, before looking up with a vicious smile. “Of course.”

* * *

Over lunch, Narcissa parted ways with her cousin, sending him off to the Manor to prepare for the wizengamot meeting scheduled that afternoon, her husband promising to make sure he doesn't screw it up. 

She then went straight to Spinner's End, dressed in the soft blues of a muggle sundress. Knocking at the door, Severus immediately opened it, also dressed in muggle regalia.

He raised an eyebrow, “Is Lucius not with you?”

She scoffed, “do you expect me to believe that man would do anything but make a fool of himself? It's _Lucius,_ let me take care of his grandfather’s mistakes, he has my cousin under control as it is.”

Severus had come to her a few days prior, explaining the life of Hermione Granger as he did, what he believed was the cause of her plight and what he had promised the girl-and what her idiotic husband had agreed to. So, Narcissa had sent off a letter, her full name in full view at the bottom and words kind as possible. The letter had been delivered to a farmhouse somewhere out in the country, and a reply soon followed it, requesting both her time and a deeper explanation.

He nodded slowly, holding an arm out in offering. Hooking hers around it, Narcissa closed her eyes, feeling the familiar tug of apparition before the smell of english countryside greeted her. She opened her eyes, observing the homely place with a careful gaze. It was the quintessential old farm house, with old red bricks and ivy covering every surface. There was a woman rushing hurriedly in their direction, a young girl with a rather impressive head of hair leading the charge. Narcissa took the girl’s appearance quietly, she had a rather pleasant face shape, with a button nose and adorably chubby cheeks, but the cuteness ended there. Her eyes were hard, holding intelligence far beyond what she would expect of a young adult-let alone a child-and her stance and posture was that of someone who was used to slinking off into the background when necessary.

Narcissa was taken with her immediately.

“Mr. Snape! How are you sir?” Severus looked severely uncomfortable, but replied kindly enough for Narcissa to consider things handled. Turning to the older woman, it took her all of three seconds to place her.

“Good merlin, you're a Crouch, aren't you?” The woman smiled, the family’s signature brown eyes and slight untamable nature to their hair making it immediately apparent.

“Aoife Crouch-well, it's Granger now, but yes. I was from a minor branch, hardly part of the family really, we were so far from the main line. You’re a Black then I suppose?” She nodded, slightly gobsmacked. The Crouch family had been at its height before the Global Wizarding War, where their numbers had then plummeted until only a smattering of the main branches remained. As it was, Bartemius Crouch Sr. was in the running for being the last of the family, as once his death occurred the name would die.

“Narcissa, it is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Granger.” she supposed using the Malfoy name would be in bad faith, all things considered, and decided to stick to first names till she was assured that the woman was comfortable with her.

“Oh just Mrs. Granger is fine dear, I can hardly be considered a Madam.” Narcissa nodded politely, glancing to where Severus was giving a minor history lesson of the Crouch line to an enraptured Hermione Granger, who had seemingly yet to blink as he attempted to remember all he knew of the family. She smiled, the girl would no doubt grow to do incredible things, only if she was allowed to flourish in the correct environment.

“Would you like to speak inside?” Glancing back to Mrs. Granger, she quickly nodded, following the woman into the farmhouse and hoping that Severus could keep the inquisitive little girl occupied while they spoke.

Settling down on a warm and plush couch, Narcissa crossed her legs daintily and watched as Aoife poured tea with the practiced hand of a pure-blooded lady. 

“How do you like your tea dear?”

“Just cream, thank you.” taking the cup and saucer, Narcissa took a delicate sip as the older woman settled herself.

“My husband is off in town at the moment, so you have a good hour to argue why I should ever allow my granddaughter into that wretched Manor you call a home.” She blinked, the calm and delicate voice of Mrs. Granger completely betraying her harsh words. It seemed that her letter had betrayed far more than she expected it to.

Setting the saucer down onto the table, Narcissa started what she likened to her best persuasive argument yet.

“I am not a Malfoy, but I certainly married one, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Septimus Malfoy was one of the most vile excuses of a man that the world had ever seen, and my husband has long since cut him from the family tree in shame.” She paused, taking in the woman’s guarded eyes and tense posture.

“I am not meaning to say that he is burying the past-though I'm sure he wishes to on many an occasion-but wishes instead to move forward and away from it. I would never come here asking to take your granddaughter in if I thought for even a moment that either of us would neglect her. In fact, my husband feels a certain amount of responsibility to take her in and care for her, as it is his ancestor’s fault that your family is in the position it is in-that you were in the position you are.”

Aoife observed her, seeming to search for something that Narcissa was unable to correct for. “Hermione is a genius-far above any child that I have ever seen-I do not want her stifled in a stuffy old house, especially one with so much cruelty hidden in the basement.”

She nodded delicately, sipping her tea in thought. “I had the entire manor renovated after the marriage, I grew up in stuffy old places, I didn't want the same for my child. I assure you Mrs. Granger, the manor is completely unrecognizable, the dungeons were sealed off behind brick and plaster.”

It was quiet, and Narcissa watched the woman’s jaw work as she contemplated what had been said. “I want to see the manor with my own eyes-to see if it has truly changed.”

The woman's hands shook, eyes sharp and years away.

“Are you sure?”

There was only a moment's hesitation before she answered. “Yes.”

* * *

Sirius stood in the atrium of the ministry, wishing desperately that the Lords and Ladies and ministry officials around him would stop their pandering and give him some bloody space for once. In his hand he clutched two parchments, the papers bound together as the appearance of one, a supposedly daming bit of evidence against a man that he still wasn't entirely sure he should be working against.

“Just follow my lead Black, and you'll be fine.” Malfoy whispered quietly from his right, peering around the room with the eyes of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

“It would help if you and Bones had given me a good reason for all this.”

“You'll see soon enough.”

There was a creaking noise, and he looked ahead to the large doors of Courtroom Three opening up before them. Sucking in a breath, Sirius made sure that his robes were well in place and long hair not as ‘absurd’ (Lucius’ words, not his) as it had been when they left. He was then pushed along with the crowd, half dragged by Malfoy as he cleared a path through the mass with his cane.

_I seriously need to get one of those. Whacking people on the daily must be horribly therapeutic._

Sirius was led along to what he recognized as the Black lordship seat, which was coincidentally only two chairs away from Malfoy. He sat down in the strangely comfortable high back and looked around the room from a vantage point he hadn't been at previously. Many of the attendants were approaching him to say how much better he looked, generally just simpering and attempting to get in his good graces. He smiled along and thanked them, though he thought his acting needed to be brushed up on.

“Sirius my boy, it's been so long.” Turning slightly, he gave Dumbledore a kind if wary glance, knowing that Amelia Bones-someone he considered fair to a fault and an incredible judge of character-found the headmaster nosy at best and criminal at worst.

“Sure has, how are you Dumbledore?”

The man smiled genially, blue eyes twinkling as he spoke. “Oh as well as always. How has Lord Malfoy been treating you? I'm sure we can get you removed to St. Mungos if Malfoy Manor is not accommodating enough.” Dumbledore’s tone set him on edge, and Sirius shifted to better see the man’s face, trying to figure out what was different than his memories of him.

“My cousin is a tad dotting, but ol’ Lucius seemed to be cowed enough.” The aforementioned man grumbled from where he sat two chairs over, glaring at Sirius quite aggressively, who stuck out his tongue in response.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, “yes of course... family trumps all else, I'm sure. Well, you know where to find me if the need arises. Toodaloo!” with a swish of gaudy robes-a wretched shade of salmon that was trimmed with maroon-he was gone, run off to the Chief Warlock seat. Sirius watched him go with a considerable amount of confusion, finding that the three way power struggle between Dumbledore, the ministry, and the Malfoys was one he really shouldn't have let himself get dragged into.

Turning back to center front, Sirius slumped back in his chair, watching the stragglers slink in just as the large doors began closing, an unfamiliar gong sounding as they all rushed to their seats. Dumbledore raised an arm, and the gong sounded again, reverberating through the room. Sirius realized it must be marking the time at which the meeting would start.

The Chief Warlock stood then, both arms raised and salmon sleeves falling past his elbows. “Welcome everyone! Now, considering the rather shocking turn of events our last emergency meeting brought, it is with no little amount of honor that I introduce to you all the new Lord Black!” Sirius stood only a second later than he likely should have, nodding diligently to the crowd and overall doing a rather alright job of pretending he had his shit together.

“Right then-” he quickly sat, watching Dumbledore as he unfurled a long-impossibly long-scroll, so long that it brushed across the floor from where he stood five stands up in the gallery. “First on the agenda for the day is…”

_Oh merlin, we’ll be here all month attempting to get through that monster._

“If I may, Chief Warlock?”

The entire room turned, watching as Lucius I-Can't-For-The-Life-Of-Me-Stay-Out-Of-Everyone's-Business Malfoy rose from his seat, glancing rather obviously at Sirius as he did. “I wish to bring forward and officially settle the matter of Rosa Potter’s guardianship.”

Everyone seemed to shuffle slightly in their seats, preparing for the two men to butt heads as Dumbledore rather pointedly rolled up the obnoxiously long scroll. “Is that so, Lord Malfoy? Then the floor is yours.”

“Not mine, Chief Warlock, I am opening the floor for my cousin-in-law to speak in regards to the Potters’ wills.” Sirius felt all eyes on him immediately, and began cycling through all of the politics lessons his father had attempted to ingrain in him at an early enough age that he neither paid attention or thought it important.

_I'm about to make a fool of myself, aren't I._

Instead of doing that however, Sirius instead rose as gracefully as he could manage, and unfurled the two pieces of parchment with no small amount of gravitas.

“Thank you, Lord Malfoy, for clearing the floor.” _I sound like such a ponce. Moony would slap me into the 2000’s if he ever got wind of this._ “It came to my attention not long into my recovery that the wills were open for me to view.” Many in the crowd muttered at that, turning to look at the Chief Warlock with mild confusion. He continued, channeling his father as he did and hating every second of it.

“In my hands are the written transcripts of the will stones, which I have brought with me for confirmations sake. The wills stipulated that, if Frank and Alice Longbottom were unable to take my goddaughter, then Edger Bones would. However, if he was also unavailable, I was next in line for guardianship, as stated in both wills. As it stands, I have the legal and magical right to take back Rosalie’s guardianship from the Chief Warlock, as he did not uphold his duty in keeping her safe.” That last part was said with no small amount of bitterness, as Sirius realized explicitly that the man _should_ have been looking after her, and it was in large part Dumbledore’s fault for her capture.

Madam Bones stood then, “may the wizengamot see the written transcript of said wills?” He nodded, and allowed the scribe on the floor to take them and duplicate them all, floating the copies to each member as he sat down. Sirius still had no idea what Lucius and Amelia were really playing at, but the important part for him was getting Rosa back as soon as he could, and this was obviously a step in that direction.

“Chief Warlock, what is the meaning of this? Two of the people stipulated before you in guardianship are very much alive and capable!”

“Now Augusta-”

“Don't you Augusta me you old fart-”

Suddenly Sirius found himself in something of a warzone, normally poised wizards and witches screaming at each other as they all attempted to take the floor, the more professional among them calling for order as the eldest two in the room argued heavily and rather loudly. Sirius remembered this as well, from the few wizengamot meetings he was forced to sit as a child. One second it was all drool and boring policies about boring things, until suddenly it could be considered nothing but an expensive bar fight... Minus the alcohol.

_Well… haven’t I created a right mess._

Moony might just forgive him for pretending to be his father, just for the memory of watching Augusta Longbottom attempt to leap over the banister and wack Dumbledore with her handbag.

_“Enough!”_

Silence reigned supreme as the minister herself rubbed her eyes tiredly. “If you are all quite finished acting like children, I would like to wrap this relatively simple conundrum up so we can speak of other, more important, things.”

“He committed fraud!”

“Where's the proof of that?”

Chaos returned once more, with Dumbledore watching the show pleasantly from his place at the head of the establishment, his eyes bearing down on Sirius accusatively, as if he had done something wrong. Why was it that the Headmaster seemed intent on letting this whole mess play out for as long as it could?

_We have a limited amount of time for this meeting._

Deciding, quite suddenly, to trust Lucius Fucking Malfoy’s intuition and assuredly _not_ trust Albus Dumbledore, Sirius rose from his heat, casting a sonorous charm on his throat as he did.

“QUIET.” The yelling dissipated, and Sirius removed the charm from his neck with a sigh. “This can be argued more aggressively on a later date, I'm sure. However, if the argument is not about the validity of my statement regarding the guardianship, may we all quite promptly vote on it and move on with the proceedings?”

There was a great deal of mutterings, and Dumbledore seemed intent on disapprovingly staring a hole in his skull, but Sirius ignored it all and watched as the vote was cast and the wills confirmed. 

He was Rosa’s guardian at last, now all he had to do was find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter till the time skip! It felt really weird not having Rosa in this chapter, but there really isn't much to be said till the time skip for her, so while the next chapter will have her and the fae, this one was lacking due to length and subject matter.
> 
> James and Lily Potter's wills: The clear and most obvious divide between the two wills is the money being distributed. You see, since Lily wasn't the heir of the Potters, I didn't think that she would have much sway when it came to where that money was going. However, I'm not so iditic to think that she wouldn't have her own valuable things that she might want others to have, as her family was well off in the muggle world and she was a free thinker. Therefore, i find it doubtful that the both of them would blatantly disagree/ differ in who they wanted Rosa to go to, as she was their daughter and they should have agreed on such a thing, which is why you see Lily a little annoyed by Sirius being on the list, and James being indignant that Severus is as well. They disagree, but came to an agreement based on how well someone would have been able to take care of Rosa (ie. if they were well off, already knew her as a child, already had experience with children, cared about the family, etc...)
> 
> Aoife Granger nee. Crouch: I have decided after the last chapter, to not outright say what Hermione's grandmother had to do to escape the squib experimentations. This is for several reasons, the first being that it really Does Not Matter. Everyone can go onto the internet and research WW2 and the experimentations that took place. Anyone can research what lengths people went to to escape to freedom. Every story or idea or thought of what she had to do is correct, because the narrative is that she is the survivor of those horrible acts, just like how Lucius is the one searching out penance for his ancestors crimes in the war, just like how Narcissa went in to Malfoy Manor and ripped it to its foundations, and built it up in the image of happiness and new beginnings. These characters are a narration for war and the aftershocks and how they affect those involved, even those who weren't even alive in that time. It's a narrative about the ripples, and how those ripples make waves.
> 
> Feel free to comment if you are curious about anything or something was unclear!


	11. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our cast settle carefully into their lives, a new beginning sprouting up from where a deviation from the script sent ripples through the waves of time.

Hermione looked between her grandmother and the woman who had just introduced herself as Narcissa Call-Me-Cissy Malfoy, observing the two of them with curious eyes. They had gone into the house and spoken for a time before returning, her grandmother appearing pale but determined and Cissy watching her with undisguised concern. Lady Malfoy seemed nice enough, smiling kindly whenever they made eye contact and telling her about an expansive library she would be free to roam and promising to buy her as many books as she could ever want, but Hermione was still warry. Even if the woman and the faceless Lord Malfoy truly wanted to take her in, her grandmother had seemed incredibly adverse to the idea before the two magicals had arrived, and that aversion made the little girl much more nervous about the woman than any amount of kindness could soothe. Her maman was fidgeting, her usual poised expression being overpowered by trepidation as she stressed over wherever it was they were going. Cissy watched the woman with careful eyes, resting a comforting hand on her arm whispering gentle words in her ear. As she did so, Mr. Snape explained the process of apparition and how it would feel, describing the sensation of being pulled through a tube. Hermione was less than excited about the prospect, but understood that it was the fastest mode of magical transportation they had.

She looked again at her grandmother, watching her grasp Cissy’s arm tightly as she felt Mr. Snape resting a firm hand on her shoulder, and the world spun. Hermione felt for a moment that she was being squeezed through a straw, before the sound of large birds squawking filled her ears. Opening her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut through the uncomfortable process, she took in the environment with awe. Hermione’s jaw went slack, looking up to a massive gate embellished with gold, a towering white brick mansion rising up behind it. The place was obviously old, but clean and fresh in a way that insinuated that there had been relatively recent repairs.

Her grandmother sucked in a breath, “even the…”

Hermione didn't pay much attention to the woman, watching as the gates opened slowly with rising excitement, observing an albino peacock strut across her field of vision. Creeping forward, she took in the expansive gardens and blossoming flowers with wide eyes, observing how Cissy led the group as if she was born for battle, head held high and posture refined. Hermione wanted to be like that, walking with the grace of a queen and the power of a warrior. Straightening her spine, she attempted to hold herself to a similar standard. Mr. Snape gently pushed her along through the gates with a tired sigh.

As they made their way down the walkway, Hermione’s neck was on a swivel, constantly looking around at all manners of fantastical things. Not only was there a squadron of white peacocks that littered the grounds, but there were dozens of perfectly trimmed bushes, all of which had been sculpted into various animals, and actually  _ moved. _ Their heads and mouths and leafy muscles shifting and maneuvering in the imitation of a real animal. The group approached a pair of large black doors inlaid with an intricate crest across the front, which was further embellished with silver, and seemed to almost glow as Cissy pressed her hand down onto the seal.

“My son has a rather bothersome habit of sneaking out, so we’ve had to increase security to negate the possibility of him wandering off and getting lost in the woods… again.” As she spoke, the massive doors creaked open, revealing a large open foyer with elegant Victorian decor. It was a tall room, which climbed upwards towards a massive stained glass ceiling, which in turn was made of a wide variety of colored glass in detailed geometric patterns, sunlight streaming downwards as it reflected through the glass and created a breathtaking rainbow effect on the white marble tiles below. Hermione gasped, walking into the foyer and glancing around every which way, watching with fascination as the colors shimmered and danced around the room.

Her grandmother had tears in her eyes, observing the room with something akin to awe. “It's so different I-I wouldn't have even realised...” 

Hermione turned from her, uninterested, and instead walked further into the home, peering at everything within reach with interest. She observed with fascination how the paintings moved on their own, watching her with curiosity and some, mild disgust. She rudely stuck out her tongue at one who had blatantly sneered at her. Peering further down the main hall, she observed a boy about her age sprint their direction, being closely pursued by a stick-thin woman, holding what Hermione could now identify as a wand in her hand.

“Draconis! Stop right this instant!”

“You're not my mum!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow as the boy sprinted past her, nearly bowling over Mr. Snape as the man reached to stop him. Sadly for the newly dubbed ‘Draconis’, the double doors rather aggressively slammed shut on his face, his mother tisking as he groaned in apparent annoyance.

“Draco, how many times-”

“Mother I’m  _ bored.  _ I simply can't live in this kind of environment!”

Hermione looked around at the gorgeous room, raising an eyebrow at his definition of a stifling environment.

“Yes well-we have guests dear, so perhaps your complaints could be put on hold for the time being?”

Draconis (or Draco, she supposed? Draconis was much more refined, in Hermione’s personal opinion) finally turned to them, eyes skating over her grandmother before finally settling onto her.

“Oh… well yes I suppose we do.” They held eye contact for just a moment, before he turned back to his mother, nose turned up and eyes accusatory. “Who’s this then?”

Hermione stiffened at the rude tone, her eyes narrowing as she puffed up in an attempt to appear as indignant as possible. No scrawny little rich boy was going to talk about her like that.

Cissy seemed to be well versed in his pitiful attitude, and only smiled sharply in response. “This is Hermione Granger, and her grandmother. Hermione will likely be living as our charge till her majority, so you best tuck away that attitude of yours.”

She attempted to stifle a giggle as Draco’s cheeks went pink, and Mr. Snape raised an eyebrow in her direction. She cooled her expression at the look, reminding herself that she was a guest in these people’s home.

“Now, why don't you and Daisy show Hermione around the estate while me and her grandmother have a conversation, hmm?”

The blond boy nodded glumly, before turning on his heel and going back the way he came, the mumbled word to follow him all that he graced her with. Following after dutifully, she watched as the stick-thin woman who must be Daisy pulled up the rear.

“Hermione is your name, yes?”

She nodded at the woman’s question, looking around at the portraits as they observed her quietly. It was fascinating how they seemed to really be alive. She wondered if they were actual people who had part of their consciousness embedded into the paint, or were just imitations of the real people. Or perhaps they weren’t modeled after people at all, and were simply magicked into moving.

“My name is Daisy Pennyfeather, I'm Draco's nanny… yours too, I suppose, if you decide to become a charge of the Malfoys that is.” Daisy was a pleasant woman, if a little peculiar. She had pretty golden blonde hair pulled back into a loose braid, which clashed horribly with her rather severe personality. Her eyes were a mocha brown, and she appeared to be a few years older than Cissy and Mr. Snape, with just the faintest hint of age across her face. Hermione guessed her age to be just barely into her thirties, if that.

“That's a lovely name ma’am, I like the last name Pennyfeather.” The woman seemed rather ticked by that, and her stern expression softened slightly.

“My mother seems to like you, I suppose that means you’re of the companionable sort.” Draconis spoke up for the first time, his eyes still facing forward as he walked several paces ahead of them. Sighing slightly in mild annoyance, Hermione sped up in order to match his stride.

“I suppose, though Mr. Snape said that your parents wished to take me in for several reasons, one of which being so that they could pay for my schooling; so perhaps my inclination towards academics won them over as well.”

Draconis wrinkled his nose, “don't call him that, it's far too formal, just say Sev.”

She sniffed in response. “That seems awfully unprofessional.”

They came upon another set of large double doors, and he led her into a beautiful ballroom embellished with more silver and white accents. It appeared right out of a fairy tale, massive stained glass windows in the same shapes and colors of the ceiling in the foyer decorating one wall, letting in a considerable amount of light and color. The ceiling, instead of being more stained glass, was painted much like the sistine chapel, though instead of angels and biblical events, there were dragons and witches and all matter of fantastical magical things. And, by god, the paintings were  _ moving,  _ just like the paintings in the halls. Hermione was going to get a crick in her neck watching all the murels move and interact with each other in perfect harmony.

“The back garden is out this way... come along then.” Tearing her eyes away from the brilliance of the ballroom, Hermione watched as Draconis pushed at one of the windows, which glimmered for a moment before transforming into a familiar set of double doors. Her jaw nearly hit the floor, as he pushed harder and the doors creaked open outwards.

She stepped through into the gardens, finding with delight that they seemed much the same as the front gardens, but much more expansive. They walked around for a while as Hermione took it all in with obvious delight, stopping occasionally to ask questions about certain magical things and getting a pleased answer from Daisy, who seemed very happy about watching over a child who was actually interested in learning.

Circling around, the little trio came upon another door, and Hermione was led back through the house and into various rooms, the most notable of which being a large indoor garden, which was situated on the top floor and magicked to appear to them to be an infinite field of wildflowers.

“Typically, one would call this room enchanted or charmed, not magicked.” Daisy explained as they wandered through the field. “The different branches of magic do different things, so distinguishing them is important when explaining how the magic of something works.”

Hermione nodded along to the mini-lecture, completely enraptured in the concept of science behind magic being a real thing. Daisy spoke of something called magic theory and processes, and Hermione immediately wished to seek out the library and get reading about it.

The blond boy rolled his eyes, “the library is boring, why don't we go do something fun instead.”

She was torn between being polite to her host and holding firm in her wishes, but eventually gave in to her curiosity. “What kind of fun things?”

Draco’s eyes immediately lit up, “we could go play quidditch!”

Hermione blinked, “what?”

He gasped in apparent horror, “merlin, you really haven't been to the magical world have you? That squib grandmother of yours has done you a disservice. Come along then, I'll teach you.”

She stormed after him through the flowers, shadow whipping around her in anger. “Don't you insult my grandmother Draconis!”

Daisy had backed up a few steps, seemingly realizing for the first time that perhaps there was something about Hermione besides being smart that had interested the Malfoys. Draco however, seemed unperturbed.

“Don't call me that!”

“I'll call you whatever I please!”

* * *

Sirius groaned, falling into a plush couch and pulling at his collar as Lucius lazily toasted him from across the room. “Congratulations Black, you’re the guardian of a missing girl.”

He let his head fall backwards, hitting the couch cushions with nothing but a quiet puff of air out of his mouth. “I'll find her.”

He heard shuffling, and then the distinct sound of a liquor cabinet opening. He perked up immediately, looking to where Lucius was pulling some sort of muggle alcohol from the cabinet. 

“I didn't take you for a whisky man, Malfoy.”

“Severus has a rather plentiful stock of quality muggle liqueurs that I take the occasional advantage of.”

Sirius snorted, watching as the man poured two glasses to the brim. It had been a rather long day for both of them it seemed. “You've been stealing expensive alcohol from a school teacher?”

“I prefer the term ‘repurposing for a better cause’. That man drinks like it's the end of days, it is my duty to keep the quality liquor away from where he can find and devour it.” The last sentence had been muttered, just loud enough for Sirius to hear and bark a laugh, slapping his knee as Lucius brought him his drink. Taking a large gulp, he sighed at the burn and relaxed into his chair, watching as Lucius collapsed into the opposite seat. It was quiet for a time as they nursed their drinks, contemplating all that had happened in the wizengamot that day. Sirius knew that the knowledge of his release, the Potters’ wills, and Rosa’s new guardianship had to be released to the press now, regardless of what the government wanted. It would be practically guaranteed that he would need to lay low for at least a month, likely hiding out in Malfoy manor just as he had been doing.

The door creaked open then, and three people walked in, Narcissa leading the charge. She smiled at them, leading an older woman over to the couch as she did. “Sit right here Aoife, I'll get you something to drink.”

As Cissy busied herself pouring out glasses of scotch for the three newcomers, the third person revealed himself to be Snape, who sneered rather pointedly in his direction. Sirius reared up for a fight, but slumped back as Snape sat down next to Aoife and spoke quiet words to her instead of starting an argument.

Knocking his head back, Sirius finished off his drink and sat the glass down on the table in front of him. “Who's this then?”

The woman seemed to be snapped from her nervous fidgeting, and finally registered the two others in the room. “Oh! I'm so sorry, I was miles away. I'm Aoife Granger, it's a pleasure.” Suddenly as it came, her anxiety was replaced with the familiar politeness of a pureblood witch.

He nodded, “Sirius Black.” Was all he supplied, feeling too uninterested and too tired to bother much with frivolous greetings. Sadly, his cousin seemed insistent on whipping him back into shape.

“Oh stop that Sirius, you have a guest here.” She smiled kindly to Mrs. Granger, handing over a shallow glass of scotch as she did. “Sirius was just acquitted after a rather nasty stint in Azkaban, and just got his Lordship. I'm afraid he has forgotten the vast majority of his manners.”

“Oi!” 

Mrs. Granger waved her off as Sirius gripped. “Its alright dear, I'm sure we've all had a long, stressful day.”

He let the conversation fade into the background as he stood, moving to pour himself a second drink. Turning with his now full glass, Sirius watched with no little shock as Snape effortlessly and aggressively drank from a full bottle of vodka, sipping straight from the bottle as if he was drinking water.

_ Is he even human? _

Shaking his head, Sirius went back to his chair, cluing back into the conversation as he did.

Aoife shook her head, looking into her glass as she spoke. “I'm sure that she would be happier here with that library to conquer and a friend to play with, but I worry that me and my husband won't be able to see her as often as we would like.”

Lucius seemed to be adopting something of a pleading voice, his hands clasped around his drink. “I would be happy to speak with the minister and find a way to have the floo connected to your fireplace. It would be no trouble.”

Sirius didn't know what they were talking about, but assumed that his hosts were planning on taking in a charge. Typical.

Catching Narcissa’s eyes, he motioned her over. “I've been thinking…”

She clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations! I didn't think you had it in you.”

He rolled his eyes, “anyway, I've been thinking of moving back into Grimmauld Place, but really hate the old house. Since you did such a smashing job renovating this place, would you mind doing the same for that old wreck of a home?”

Narcissa’s eyes immediately lit up, and she settled down next to him, talking a mile a minute about various wallpapers and different periods that the house could be renovated into emanating. He settled back in the plush chair, listening half to his cousin and half to the other conversation in the room.

This was shaping up to be his life, it seemed.

Sirius couldn't find it in himself to be all that upset about it.

* * *

September first arrived faster than anyone anticipated, with the new school year seeming to be severely downplayed by not only Rosa Potter’s disappearance, but Sirius Black’s apparent acquittal. Parents gathered with the new and returning students, whispering quietly to each other in hushed tones, kissing their children goodbye and waving them off with low spirits. Percy Weasley for one, was clearly happy to be free of his mother’s usually overbearing affection, sneaking onto the train with not much but a hurried goodbye. The twins however, were unusually quiet, acting conspiratorial and cautious as they said goodbye to their parents and siblings.

Fred Weasley especially, was feeling high strung with the knowledge of what was to come, his feelings that Gryffindor was not for him or his brother sinking heavily in his stomach and making him feel ill. Molly Weasley seemed not to notice her son’s plight, instead patting him down kindly before turning to his twin, doing the same for him as she was lost in her own thoughts.

“Now be sure to write you two, and don't give Percy or Charlie too much trouble.” They shared a glance, before nodding in tandem. It wouldn't do to give up the ruse so late in the game after all, they had been sitting on their decision for the entire bloody summer.

Walking with Charlie to the train, the twins quickly lost the taller boy in the crowd, determined to separate themselves and find some friends. Hopping onto the train, Fred quickly took the lead, the two peaking into compartments in search of other first years.

“Oi, Freddie”

“Hm?” Turning, he peeked into the compartment his brother was peering into, seeing a single other first year with the telltale black trimmed robes and black tie. They shared a look, before creaking open the door.

“Morning chap.” Started Fred, leaning against the door frame and smiling in a way that was likely devious enough to make the other boy nervous.

George looked around the compartment pointedly, as if searching from something. “Fancy seeing another firstie around these parts.”

The other boy didn't seem all that bothered by their sudden arrival, instead smiling kindly. “Hi there! I'm Cedric, are you two Weasleys?”

Fred snorted, “how'd you guess? Is it the nose? I keep telling people, it's obviously a family nose, we’ve all got the same one.” Cedric was nice enough, and welcomed them into the compartment easily enough. He apparently lived in the same area as they did, though how they hadn’t met was anyone’s guess. Either way, he was a good chap, and Fred personally had a great deal of fun talking with him and George in the little compartment, unhindered by houses or expectations.

A knock on the door several hours into the ride disrupted the pleasant atmosphere, as the haughty face of Percy appeared in the window. George waved, before turning back to what Cedric was saying, making Fred snicker quietly. The door jingled, and their older brother stormed into the small room, his ego immediately making the space feel rather crowded.

“Charlie was in a fit when you two wandered off, that was awfully rude of you.”

His twin sent him a look, before smiling back up to Percy innocently, “sorry Perse, we got lost.” Fred nodded along, ever playing the picture perfect angel.

Percy didn't buy it for a second. “Sure, just get off your arse’s and get a move on, the train’s about to stop.” Not waiting for a reply, the third year whirled out of the room and down the hall, seemingly intent on leaving them behind.

“Your brother seemes…” Cedric searched for the correct words with a pinched look on his face.

“Like a ponce?”

“One bad grade away from a mental breakdown?”

The brown-haired boy nodded, “both work.”

The trio cracked jokes and goofed off on their way off the train, following the small grouping of first years as they trickled towards the black lake. Theirs was one of the smaller years, as the war had been in full swing as they were being conceived, so there were very few people during that time who had children. Fred looked around at the small huddling of students and felt a sudden and horrible feeling-like he was realizing the extent of the war for the first time. He had never seen his age group quantified like this, there were barely thirty of them.

“Georgie-” His brother nodded, eyes sweeping over the small crowd with quiet shock. “I know.”

They clambered into a boat with Cedric and some girl named Alicia Spinnet, who was jabbering on about quidditch to anyone who would listen. Fred, for one, was more than happy to listen, and had a pleasant if loud conversation about quidditch theory with her, George occasionally inputting a cheeky quip or his own opinion about topics as they went.

Quite suddenly, Cedric gasped, and Fred turned in tandem with his brother, taking in the sight of Hogwarts for the first time.

“Bloody hell…”

“Well isn't that something.”

The castle was better than he could have ever imagined, the towers scraping against the sky as lights shone like beacons through the distant windows. George’s hand grasped his tightly as they neared the shore, and his nervousness and excitement bleeding together into an incomprehensible mess as they were led up the hills to the looming front doors. The gamekeeper-Hagrid, he said his name was-pulled open the massive doors and the small group was hurried inside, oohing and ahhing at the beautiful architecture as they were pushed along. George still had a grip on his hand, and Fred squeezed it gently, peering at darkened alcoves for good places to set pranks or hide away from angry teachers. George appeared to be doing the same, eyes gleaming as his nervousness was won over by myschef.

“'Ere they are Professor McGonagall.” Hagrid was speaking with a stern-looking witch with black hair, which was held in a bun so tight Fred wondered if it was in danger of getting pulled from her roots.

“Thank you Hagrid.” She nodded in dismissal, and the massive man wandered off to someplace else. Turning back to the small group, she caught his eye and smiled kindly, before addressing all of them. “Welcome to Hogwarts, I am the Deputy Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall. In just a moment, you will be sorted into your houses. The houses go as follows: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” George tightened his hold on his hand, and they shared a heavy glance. “Each house has produced outstanding wizards and witches, and each and every one of you has the capabilities to be just as extraordinary.” There was a muttering and shifting through the group, as people glanced at each other and nerves rose.

Mcgonagall nodded once more, seemingly satisfied with the air of stress she had created. “Now, if you would all follow me…” They were led through the halls, passing by precariously balanced suits of armor and the occasional ghost, who all watched them wander along with fake interest. Coming upon another set of large double doors, Mcgonagall threw them open and the group was led into a massive hall, which was decorated with blues greens yellows and reds, as well as a rather impressive amount of floating candles. Fred wondered if it were possible to grab a hold of one and be floated along with it, or if it wouldn't be able to hold the weight.

_ A question for another day. _

They were gathered at the front of the hall, right there for all to see, and watched with bated breath as a stool and the sorting hat were carried out. Fred had come to understand from Percy that it was a ratty old thing, but had never expected it to be so… well, so pitiful really. The hat was rested gently onto the stool, and a seam ripped apart, and it began to sing.

“A thousand years or so ago

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Sharp Slytherin, from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest 

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And self-reliant Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones 

When they were dead and gone?

‘Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I’ve never yet been wrong,

I’ll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!”

There was an uproarious applause as the hat bowed (sorta) to each table, before Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll and started calling names.

“Bletchley, Miles!”

“Slytherin!”

“Coote, Ritchie!”

“Gryffindor!”

George turned to him then, eyes glittering. “Do you think I can laugh at that poor sods last name? Or would that be insensitive.” Fred snickered in response, watching as the newest Gryffindor sprinted off to the proper table.

“Diggory, Cedric!” The boy smiled at the twins, before meandering up to the stool, settling down and promptly being sorted into hufflepuff.

“Graves, Merton!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Harkness, Elizabeth!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Well there you go, we've already been replaced as his best friends, I reckon.” George nodded solemnly in agreement. 

“We best attempt juvenile comradery in an attempt to win it back.”

“No doubt, no doubt.”

Gryffindor cheered as both Angela Johnson and Lee Jordan were sorted into their house, and Fred started to get a tad bored.

“Meng, Genji!”

“Slytherin!”

The girl hopped off the stool, her thin black hair cutting through the air like a knife as she walked to the Slytherin table, her eyes cold and gaze sharp. Fred made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

“Pucey, Adrian!”

“Slytherin!”

George snicked besides him, “he looks rather like an easy target, you reckon?” Fred nodded in agreement, watching as Alicia Spinnet was sorted into Gryffindor. He then turned from the proceedings to search out his brothers, who were both sitting at separate ends of the Gryffindor table and watching with varying amounts of interest. Percy had his nose in a book, and likely wouldn't pull it out till the next day, but Charlie had his eyes firmly on the twins. Fred nearly jumped when they made eye contact, and was put on edge by the ferocity of his older brother’s gaze.

“Warrington, Cassius!”

“Slytherin!”

Charlie smiled sadly, and nodded at him before turning away.

“Weasely, Fredrick!”

He actually did jump then, before letting go of his twin’s hand and making his way up to the stool as the Slytherin table continued to clap for Warrington. Settling down, the hat was placed on his head, the long flaps coming down past his eyes and blocking his view of the room.

_ “Well well well! Quite the odd ball in your family, aren’t you?” _ Fred shifted at the voice echoing through his skull, curious about how exactly the hat’s consciousness might have been created.

_ “Hmm… well, I have to say, I'm quite impressed by you and your brother’s skill, I dare say if you attempted the ploy you would have managed to trick me.” _

_ “You reckon?” _

_ “Oh certainly, most undoubtedly, but I am rather glad you didn’t, as now that I know such a loophole might exist I can patch it.” _

Fred nearly nodded in agreement, before stopping himself.  _ “So where would you say is best for me, oh wise and noble hat that you are?” _

The hat hummed, the sound reverberating through his skull.  _ “Well, you've certainly got the smarts for Ravenclaw, though I dare say you would have trouble applying yourself in such an academically inclined environment. That being said, the intense drive and-frankly-absurd amount of cunning it would have taken to pull off such a ploy as to trick me, can only place you in…” _

“Slytherin!”

Fred only realized that the last word was spoken aloud as the room quieted to a whisper, a shout of ‘what!’ coming from someone who sounded suspiciously like Percy. The hat was nearly  _ yanked _ from his head, and the first pair of eyes he caught were those of George, who was grinning from ear to ear. Winking rather obnoxiously in Percy’s direction, Fred hopped off the stool and shoved his hands in his pockets, sauntering over to the Slytherin table as the lot started to whisper to themselves.

Settling down next to the intimidating-looking Genji Meng, he grinned mischievously at her raised eyebrow.

“W-weasley, George!”

“Slytherin!”

In contrast to the minute it took Fred to be sorted, George only needed a second or two before he was walking over to the table of green and silver, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as the Gryffindor table’s confused shouts rose in volume as Slytherin started whispering even more aggressively to each other.

“Evening brother, fancy seeing you here.”

Fred attempted not to laugh, his face twisting into something of a myshapen grin. “I never would have thought! George Weasley is now among the snakes. Rather bold of you to say nothing of your true colors, brother mine.”

George clicked his tongue, settling down next to him as Meng watched with amused interest. “Now now brother dearest, we can't all be open books like you.”

Cassius Warrington glared rather obviously at the two of them, seeming about to open his fat mouth and say something rude before the headmaster rose from his seat to address the crowd. “Settle down settle down… Yes yes, welcome to another wonderful year at Hogwarts-”

Fred tuned him out, watching with glee as his black tie and trim transformed into emerald green, the other first years’ doing the same. There was a finality to the change, and he felt that this was a huge turning point in his life, and would further define who he would be in the future. Fred looked up and glanced around the hall, taking in the curious faces of the Ravenclaws, the understanding eyes of Cedric, and, to his surprise, Charlie watching him with undisguised pride from the Gryffindor table.

It's official then, the Weasley twins have descended into Slytherin.

* * *

Rosa looked up to the canopy above her, birdsong flitting around her bedroom as she woke with the sun. She stretched, reaching up to the twisting rose vines and hanging branches that made up the natural awning above her bed, the vines snaking down towards her outstretched fingers. Rosa had connected to her entire room weeks before, it had been one of her first conquests in her unyielding pursuit of magical connection to every living plant in Elphame.

The vines wrapped around her wrist and arm, snaking down until they wrapped around her waist as well. She smiled sleepy, the barbs a comfort as much as they were a danger, and she was pulled gently into the canopy.

_ “Good Morning sun.” _ Rosa whispered in sidithe to the sliver of light just barely revealed to the world, watching just as the sun rose above the distant mountains, Rosa’s perch on a branch being assured by the vines keeping her steadily pinned to it. They wouldn’t let her fall, even if all she would land on was her mattress. The sun’s gentle rays brushed across her cheek like a good morning kiss, and Rosa knew that somewhere, Una was rising from her slumber as well. Fin was no doubt already awake, tinkering away in the medical wing already, having barely slept and likely in need of an assistant to watch him work. She would wander off to breakfast before that though, not only to eat but also get him something, as he was nearly guaranteed to have forgotten.

Before then though, she would watch the world wake up from her perch above her bed, and contemplate all that her life had become before Thimble and Rhiannon woke and made themselves busy trying to get her started with the day.

Rosa smiled, cheeks warmed by the rising sun and heart warmed by everything else.

For so long she had struggled to find a place for her to feel wanted, exploring through the underbrush and scaling trees in the effort to find her home-to find the place that she belonged.

But now she had found it, and her life could finally start.

She could see happiness besides her and in front of her, stretching on as infinite and assured as the knowledge that the sun would rise every morning and set every evening. The pain and solitude was firmly behind her now, and the shadows seemed more like spiders than demons now, creeping from the darkness like cautious little creatures looking for a home. Just like her.

Rosa had lived through her hardship, she had sat and watched the spiders crawl out into the light. She was with them now though, with them in the damp morning air, dew drops slipping onto her shoulders as spiders spun mist-heavy webs. It was time to simply live.

Rosa smiled, and the sun smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ  
> So... I've injured my back, it's nothing life threatening, but I will be having difficulty updating as bending my spine at all sends me into incredible amounts of pain, so while I managed to complete this chapter (mostly out of sheer spite for my genetics making my spine so long and easily damaged, and a need to finish the pre-hogwarts chapters right now immediately) it is very difficult to type for much longer than 10 min bursts, so I'll probably take a week-ish break as I heal before getting back to it. Thank you for understanding!
> 
> Now for your typical chapter analysis:  
> Hermione calling Draco his full name: Ok, while the name Draconis isn't canon, I thought that it was just stuffy and elaborate enough for it to absolutely be Draco's full name. As it is, Hermione has a habit of calling people by their full names in canon (Ronald, lol) so I decided that she would prefer it over just Draco. She's professional and respectful to the point of being obnoxious like that.
> 
> The small size of George and Fred's year group: they really were borne right as all that stuff was in full swing, right as the marauders were graduating and all that nonsense, very few people were having children during that time period.
> 
> Sorting Hat song: I stole it from Harry's 4th year, I think? Even I dont have the dedication to make up a whole new song for the sorting, though it would be a lot of fun.
> 
> Genji Meng: This girl is partially to give the twins a third friend in lieu of Lee Jordan not becoming friends with them (as he is sorted into an opposing house now) and partially to prove that it takes literally no time at all to come up with a proper chinese name for a chinese character. Like it took me five minutes (looking at you JKR. "Cho Chang" are you kidding me?). Cedric will also be their friend (obviously) but they need a character in their house to make a mess with.
> 
> The next chapter (when it comes out) will be a time skip to the summer before Rosa’s first year!


	12. She's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After over two years of nothing, Rosa Potter seemingly returns to Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack ;)

**Two Years Later:**

Minerva McGonagall was not one easily surprised.

In fact, the last time she remembered being truly, utterly shocked was when Sirius Black was sorted into Gryffindor. She remembered very clearly how her goblet had fallen from her hands as the boy stumbled off to her house’s table, his eyes wide and glancing with confusion and glee towards the cautiously cheering house. As it was, the shock of his future incarceration did nothing but ruffle her feathers and drain her liquor stores, though his acquittal eight years later did nearly make her drop her goblet a second time. However, besides the occasional shock or life-shattering discovery, nothing much surprised her any longer. The loss of her goddaughter nearly sent her into an early grave, yes, but the news had given her nothing but anger and stress, long nights spent curled around a bottle of gin in Hogs Head as Aberforth regaled her with meaningless pleasantries. She had never been truly, utterly, shocked for many years however, and was quite comfortable in saying that she had been long since desensitized to such surprises.

However, life seemed intent on proving her iron will to be ever flawed.

She blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish as she looked down at the letter sitting innocently on her desk. It was one she had just signed, as she did with all of the letters going out to new Hogwarts students, and as she moved to place it with the others the name had very nearly passed her by. It was sheer coincidence that she had glanced up from her usual signing at the end of each magically written letter to take note of the name, finding ‘R. Potter’ quite blatantly on display at the top of it.

Rosa Potter should not be receiving a letter.

Of course, the girl would be receiving one if she was still in the country, or even in the general vicinity of Britain, all magical children in the UK were capable of receiving one after all. However, it was common knowledge after the past two years that Rosalie Potter was very clearly nowhere near Europe, as the continent had been scoured years prior by either the Order or the ministry, and then had been gone over with a fine tooth comb by the ever-determined Lord Black.

“Imposible.”

Of course, the only way for it to be possible was if Rosa Potter was, indeed, back in the country once more. There was quite clearly no other way for the girl to receive a letter. Minerva stared down at the damning piece of parchment for a moment, before quite calmly calling for an elf.

“Mipsy? Yes, hello dear, can you get the headmaster for me? We have quite the situation presently.” The elf nodded shyly, and popped away, the noise making her jerk as the shock began to settle in. Minerva leaned back in her desk chair, reading and rereading the words ‘Miss. R. Potter’ as if they were the key to unlocking every secret of the universe itself.

“Imposible.”

It was all she could do to not show her shock, nor the heavy weight of two long, hopeless years settling in her stomach as she stared down at her goddaughter’s name. For so long had she wondered where the little girl had gone, Minerva had been one of the first to hear of her disappearance after all, she had been forced to not only take the news but also watch the rest of Britain fall apart because of it. She partially blamed herself for the loss, as while it had been near impossible for her to let the daughter of Lily and James be set on that muggle porch, the harsh cold of winter biting at her cheeks, she would have had every opportunity to go get the girl and bring her home.

But she hadn’t.

Minerva had hoped for a long, long time that Rosa was being treated well-that the Dursleys were doing right by her-but she had never truly believed the headmaster when he assured her of Rosa’s safety. She blamed herself for the kidnapping, because if she had just got the nerve to check on the little girl, if she had gone to see what was going on in that muggle home, she might have disregarded Albus’ words and stolen the girl away from that sterile, uniform hell.

Reaching carefully across the desk, she pulled a fresh piece of parchment from the stack and wrote out a quick note to Lord Black, detailing that it was very likely Rosa was back in Britain and that the hunt was on once again. Folding it and sealing it with the spare red wax that she had been using to seal the Hogwarts letters, Minerva tried to keep her hands from shaking as she took a deep breath through her nose. Motioning over her personal owl, she handed the letter off and watched the bird fly away out the window. Taking another deep breath, she picked up the letter again and sat in tense silence, rereading and re-rereading the name as she held back salty tears.

“Please… _please_ don't be impossible.”

* * *

Lord Sirius Orion Black was many things to the magical population of Great Britain, the first being a recluse who seemed intent on not giving away anything about himself besides his hair color and his tendency to argue rather aggressively and bitterly against Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore. Truly, the man was nothing if not an enigma to all but his closest of confidants, as even those who had known him during school couldn’t say much about who he currently was. There were several reasons for this sudden and inexplicit change in his character-something that was no doubt spurred on by the public opinion of him before and after his acquittal. There was a certain personalized destruction that he undertook after he was forced to undergo a disjointed jump from a troublemaking (and infamously bothersome) gryffindor rebel to you-know-who’s right hand man, and an even more striking jump back to who he had been barely eight years later.

To the general public, it seemed he never managed to quite make that jump back, and had to build himself up into something new after falling flat.

Lord Black only returned to the public sphere by waltzing into the mess that was the Potter Kidnapping and making an even bigger mess of it, trying very clearly to jump back into who he had been before the 31st of October, 1981. However, instead of riding the shockwaves of his reemergence and subsequent public adoration, Lord Black fell backwards from the eyes of both the press and his worried acquaintances and was not heard from much afterwards-except for wizengamot meetings, where he could be seen quite firmly not picking sides in any matter-something that seemed to ruffle the feathers of every light-leaning family and most notably the Chief Warlock himself.

As it was, the public was very curious about who Sirius Black had become during his stay in Azkaban, because he was so clearly not who he had been before _or_ who people had expected him to be after.

“Master Sirius, Lady Cissy is at the door.”

Evidently, it was probably for the best they stayed in the dark.

Sirius groaned, waving his arm lazily from where he laid under too-thin sheets. His infernal cousin had been spending far too much time bothering him and far too little time dealing with the two demons inhabiting her home. It was his personal opinion that she had better things to be doing than mothering him. 

“Tell her to sod off.”

Kreacher made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a scoff, and the covers were yanked rather aggressively off of him, exposing his bare back to the cold air. Sirius groaned, squinting at the blinding light of midday as the wrinkly face of his grumpy old house elf came into view. It had taken a considerable amount of time and energy on both of their parts to manage anything but incredible hatred for each other, but Kreacher was obsessed enough with the Black family to want to care for him and Sirius was pitiful enough to warrant the elf’s reluctant loyalty.

“Lady Cissy is at the door, Master. Yous must be getting up.”

Sirius made a face, rolling back over and tugging uselessly at the covers. He had gotten rather sloshed the night prior-as he did most nights-so he was a tad (incredibly) hungover and _really_ not in the mood for whatever Narcissa wanted.

“She can wait a bloody hour, go get the kettle on would you?”

Kreacher huffed again, turning around and leaving the room with little but annoyed grumbling. Sirius sighed with relief, snuggling down into the throw pillow under his head as he pulled the sheets back onto himself. The search for Rosa had been a long one, stretching across every continent and into some of the most remote places he had ever been to-places that he had never been able to conceptualize in his mind until he had gone there. He went to the floating island of Delos in Greece, traversed through the merchant city of Atlantis, and trekked through the high hills of Kvenland. Hell, he had even managed to bum a ride into the booming city-state of El Dorado, traversing through searing heat and glittering buildings on the whisper of a lead that found him with nothing but a few more rich friends and an even larger pile of gold in his vault.

After just a little over 17 months of searching, after nearly a year and a half of traveling the globe, he had given up and resorted to day drinking.

The door opened again, and the sound of two pairs of small feet pattering in made him open his eyes bleary, the unmistakable sound of pushing and shoving and quiet arguing coming along with it. Grabbing at his blankets again, Sirius peered over his shoulder to watch as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger continued on with a very quiet argument as they entered the room, obviously attempting to make their opinions known to each other while not getting in trouble with the woman that was no doubt just down the hall.

Hermione Granger had been something of a source of interest (and warriness) in Sirius, having made quite the impression on him after he had observed her having a meltdown two months into her stay with the Malfoy family. He couldn’t remember quite what had set her off, but one moment she was perfectly amicable and the next there was a wretched and horribly familiar presence surrounding her, great talons of shadow and black reaching out and attempting to tear them all to ribbons. It had been quite an interesting conversation with his cousin afterwards-it wasn’t every day that the descendent of someone who had undergone black magic experimentations showed up and started apologizing for nearly ripping you to shreds after all, it was something of a shock at the very least.

“What are you two rapscallions on about?” Their heads quickly snapped over to him, eyes wide with surprise for a moment before Hermione huffed, stomping her foot and crossing her arms determinately.

“Lord Black, Draco seems determined to goad me into a quidditch competition, and seems to repeatedly refuse to acknowledge that I am wretched at the sport!” He chuckled, sitting up slowly as the budding pre-teens started to argue louder and louder, fingers pointing accusatory as the girl’s frizzy hair gained static. Scratching his right pectoral for a moment, Sirius stared a little to the left of the pair and towards the cream wallpaper that decorated the third sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place, the large windows and warm shades doing a great deal for his tired mind. Narcissa was a lot of things, most notably a tyrant and a monster, but she was also a rather genius interior designer, and his childhood home had never looked more welcoming once she was done with it. Sure, per Kreacher’s request she had left the attic and basement alone, but both were only really used as storage space anyhow and Sirius never went into either. The house’s wards had been updated and further layered with even more wards, adding to the already rather indestructible nature of them. He had been considering adding the fidelius charm as well-for nothing besides soothing his own paranoia about the ministry busting down his door and dragging him back to azkaban-but had found that he trusted no one enough to be his secret keeper, and that it would take an obscene amount of power to be his own secret keeper if he was also fueling the wards.

He settled for (nearly) indestructible and let the nightmares of dementors be drowned out with busy days of family, politics, and booze.

“Well perhaps if you weren’t such a perfectionist-”

“Perfectionism has nothing to do with the fact that betting on my own flying ability is foolhardy!”

“Only if you suck at flying.”

“Oh _very_ astute observation, Draconis.”

Sirius grinned, amused, and turned back to the two kids. “Hey now, why don’t you fly against me Draco? I'm sure it would be a much fairer match.”

The Malfoy heir made a face, no doubt thinking back to all the times Sirius had proudly and effortlessly trounced him in the sport. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

Sirius shared a pointed look with Hermione, who made an effort not to giggle when Draco appeared mildly affronted. Sighing lightly, he swung his feet off the couch that had become his makeshift bed sometime in the night and reached for the steaming cup of tea that had been left on the coffee table by Kreacher at some point, blowing at the steam for a few minutes as the two kids settled down on the opposite couch. They elbowed and griped at each other, sniping and sassing and generally making it clear that they would work together nicely but would blatantly refuse to enjoy it. A gentle but stern voice wafted down the hall, punctuated occasionally by a lower one-Narcissa and Kreacher no doubt.

“-and if he doesn’t stop drinking, do tell me so, that man has far too much time on his hands for a politician-oh! Cousin, there you are.” He nodded in her direction, grimacing at her prior statement as she peered into the room from where she stood in the doorway. Narcissa hadn’t changed much over the past two years, though she had gained a certain pride in her family that had yet to be seen prior-he could only assume that the rambunctious nature of her son was easily quelled by the overly cautious and obnoxiously polite one of her charge, and the manor had been much quieter as the little brat was forcibly steered towards literature instead of dramatic escape attempts. 

Sirius took a sip of his tea, finding it slightly bitter and in need of more sugar, Kreacher was annoyed with him then. Sighing, he set down the nearly perfect cup of tea and addressed his guests. 

“Alright then, what are you three doing traipsing through here?” Cissy coughed daintily, settling down in a seat directly to his right. The two pre-teens gained an excited gleam in their eyes, both pulling out distinctive letters from their pockets as they did. Hermione took the charge-as she always seemed to do-in explaining their appearance so early in the… he checked the grandfather clock across the room, which read half past noon. Wincing at the early hour, he turned back to center-front on the prompting of Hermione’s throat clearing.

“We both received our Hogwarts letters this morning, only two hours later than they are typically scheduled to arrive-at ten o’clock instead of eight.” Sirius coughed down a laugh, watching as Draco was not so lucky and let out an undignified snort. Hermione kicked him absentmindedly before continuing. “As Lord Malfoy is not currently at the house due to business, Lady Malfoy thought it prudent to come here so that you might enjoy both our company and the typical ceremonial act of opening them.” She finished with a nod, folding her hands and watching him with careful eyes. Sirius nodded slowly in response, taking a careful sip of his tea while glancing towards Cissy, who made an expression that read quite plainly to get on with it.

“Right, why don't you two crack ‘em open then?” Hermione’s rather stiff way of speaking was not new to him, though it was apparently not how she typically went about her conversations. It had become rather apparent to Sirius that between her gaining knowledge of him and their actual meeting, she had decided that he was deserving of a great deal of respect and that she would therefore need to speak as though she was in government court addressing a judge. Perhaps she had read the paper regarding his acquittal and guardianship of Rosa and had drawn her own conclusions. Either way, they didn’t speak near enough for him to negate her stiffness, and as he had been away for the greater part of the past two years, there was a lot of lost time in which he could have been making up for the mysterious and reputable Lord Black persona he had somehow adopted.

“How do you think they manage to figure out where we sleep? Seems awfully stalkerish to me.” Hermione sounded perturbed, looking down at the address with a calculating gaze. Draco however, just rolled his eyes.

“It's just magic Hermione, don't think so hard about it.”

The girl huffed, tearing open the letter and immediately grabbing for the book list. She began to read through it, an expression of obvious disappointment splashed across her face as she did. “What a pity, I've already read all of these.” Draco donned a pinched expression as Narcissa beamed with obvious pride. Sirius watched the three with a small smile, observing how Draco exclaimed at not being allowed a broom, and how Hermione appeared convinced that the books were ‘lacking substance and sophistication’. It was clear that Narcissa adored the both of them, though it made Sirius wonder if Hermione was shaping up to be just a charge or a future… He brushed the thought aside, turning instead to the window as an owl flew through and settled gently on the arm of the couch. He frowned, taking the hastily stamped letter and cracking the untidy seal, peeling it open and quickly scanning the contents.

He didn’t realise he had dropped his tea until the hot liquid splashed across his bare feet.

“Merlin! Sirius are you alright-” He was already on his feet, hurrying out of the room as if there was fire licking his heels. “Kreacher!” He screamed towards the kitchen, legs bounding up the stairs as he stumbled over himself. “Kreacher! Bloody hell-Kreacher!”

“I am here, Master Sirius.” He stumbled into his bedroom, nearly slipping on a fallen garment as he threw open his closet and began to speak quickly as he threw on clothing.

“Kreacher-get my bike ready, I need to get to Hogwarts without having to bother with the headmaster. Chop Chop!” The elf nodded slowly, watching with only mildly curious eyes as Sirius threw on a pair of jeans and a leather jacket.

“Shall I send Lady Cissy and the children away?” He cursed, sliping a shoe into a boot as his laces on the other one tied themselves.

“No time, just make sure the brat doesn’t steal anything.” He nearly slipped and fell as he ran down the stairs, skipping nearly four steps at a time and cursing all the while. Narcissa stood in the door to the parlor, hands clutched to her heart and worried eyes following his erratic movements.

She reached out, grasping a hold of his sleeve and walking along with him as he traversed to the garage. “Sirius-what on earth is the matter.”

He brushed her off, turning a corner just as Kreacher turned the ignition on his bike. Gabbing his helmet, he turned and landed a kiss on her cheek. “She's back in Britain.”

He turned his back before seeing her expression, busying himself with getting settled onto the bike and unnecessarily adjusting his mirrors. “She…?”

Sirius smiled, his bike helmet coming down over his face and obstructing her vision of his expression. The past two years seemed to melt away, and his previous despair was replaced with the assured determination that he had started out with upon leaving the tower of Azkaban. There was hope now, if just a small amount of it.

“Rosa. She’s back in Britain.”

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had long since given up on finding the girl-who-lived. He had taken the hits to his reputation with pride and watched with somber eyes one of his plans crumble to dust, his physical reaction begin nothing more than a clench of his teeth. Sirius Black had been a painful loss to the light, and his apparent vacation around the world proved that he was far more focused on gaining Rosa Potter back than anything politics could offer. That was not to say that he was absent from wizengamot meetings however, as the man still managed to return to almost every meeting in order to bother Albus and generally voice his displeasure over the fact that the headmaster still held the title of Chief Warlock. Yes, sadly, that relationship was dead and pushing up daisies currently, and Albus saw nothing in the current climate that could bring the Lord Black back under his arm.

“Headmaster?”

Looking from his desk, he peered down at the elf who had appeared quite suddenly at his left, watching for a moment as it rubbed nervous hands together. “Yes?”

“The Deputy Headmistress wishes to speaks with you.” He nodded sagely, rising from his chair and reaching down for the elf’s hand. It was always much simpler to travel by elf when inside wards, as unless you had a specific one keyed to each elf, there was no way to stop them from popping around the place. They whirled away in a sucking manner that could be considered some sort of apparition, and he found himself standing in Minerva’s office. Looking towards the desk, his worry spiked as he found the woman’s face an ashy gray, her hands clutched around what appeared to be an outgoing Hogwarts acceptance letter. 

“Minerva? What on earth is the matter?” Coming around to stand next to her, it took Albus only a moment to locate the source of the woman’s state, sucking in a breath as he read through the letter. ‘Miss. R. Potter’ was splashed blatantly across the first line, revealing without a doubt that the girl had somehow trekked back to Britain.

“It should be impossible but-” He had never seen his deputy in such a state, staring at the girl’s name as if it could answer all the questions that had been building up for the past two years. Thinking quickly, he reached down and adjusted her hands, prying the letter gently from her grasp as he spoke soothing words.

“Minerva, I understand that you are overwhelmed, but we must be thorough and quick in regarding this new development.” He read over the letter once more, the woman had already signed it, and had seemed to have just barely caught the name before setting it with the rest of the letters. It would have gone right under their noses if it had gone out without their knowledge, and if the girl didn’t answer it… well, they certainly had been very lucky for this chance.

Holding his wand aloft, Albus cast a string of charms onto the parchment, and then reached down and did the same to the nearest envelope. As he did this, Minerva gathered herself and called an elf to bring her tea.

“Oh Albus, what are you doing?”

He slipped the letter into the freshly charmed envelope, setting it onto the desk and watching as enchanted quills and stationary wrote out the predetermined address and poured wax onto the seal. “I cast several tracking and detection charms. Once she grabs a hold of the letter, we will know the exact location and who was with her.”

Grabbing the letter from where it sat, now ready for postage, he motioned one of the many owls in the office over and handed it to the thing, watching as the owl soared out of the window. 

“Was that wise? We should at the very least follow it...” Minerva seemed to be calming, though her eyes were looking suspiciously red as she brushed a dainty hand across her cheek. 

He smiled gently, a hand resting carefully on her shoulder as he spoke. “It is of no consequence Minerva, we will know her location regardless.” There would be many possibilities for why Rosa Potter was suddenly back in Britain, but he didn’t think that it would be awfully constructive to waste time trying to figure out the reason. It was much simpler to just find her and ask.

Patting Minerva’s shoulder one final time, Albus turned to the door and began to think about all that the next few days could reveal, deciding to take a walk and clear his head. The last two years had been long and tiresome, but this could very well make all that hardship worth it.

* * *

The woods around Privet Drive were quiet, inhabited only by little birds and quiet rodents, going about their daily wanderings as the sun slowly began to creep further overhead. Less than a half mile away, Petunia Dursley pulled a broom from an empty cupboard under the stairs, the only thing set inside the quiet cupboard being mops and cleaning supplies and a whisper of quiet shame. The cupboard had been empty of life for two years, and the little girl who had once inhabited it, as well as her spider friends and the lonely cobwebs, had long since vacated the place. Petunia Dursley closed the door without a second thought, turning back to the kitchen so that she could clean up the glass of a fallen cup.

No one in the house thought of the little wild girl they had kept in the cupboard for nearly eight years, nor did they stop to wonder what had happened to her. Fae magic could work wonders on the memories of wretched people, and the Dursleys had been given the gift of forgetting that magic had ever existed. For Petunia Dursley, her sister truly did die in a car accident, and the woman’s husband and daughter along with her. There had been no Hogwarts, or magical childhood friends with long black hair. There had been favoritism and misplaced adoration yes, but no magic. For the normal Dursleys, magic never did and never would exist, and the Potters had died many years before in the dead of night, their sweet daughter dying tragically with them. Petunia began to sweep, and the cupboard continued to be void of life.

Wind brushed against the treetops of a small clearing in the woods around Privet Drive.

The clearing, just like the woods, was void of all life except for bugs and ferns, the distant sound of chirping birds alerting the world to the hot day of July in full swing. The sun, a blazing inferno of gasses and reactions, rose steadily-mechanically-into the sky.

All was still... until it wasn’t.

Several things happened in the span of a minute that would have been considered impossible to anyone who was passing by, be they muggle or magical. The first thing was an elegant owl soaring down from the cloudless sky, brown wings stark against the cerulean ocean of blue. It touched down in the clearing, ruffling its feathers as it sat patiently on a low branch. There was no magical person around to see the peculiar sight of a messenger owl waiting in an empty field, and no muggle passing through to tilt their head at the odd sight of an owl with a letter clutched in its beak.

The second thing to happen, was the ground beginning to glow.

It was faint at first, and could have been perhaps written off as the sun glancing off of the moist earth, but when a distinct circle began to form, and the owl straightened in anticipation, it was clear that something very peculiar was happening. As the damp blades of grass began to more clearly glow, small mushrooms emerged from the short foliage, forming a very clear circle around the luminescence soil.

A small hand emerged from the fairy ring.

With it came an arm, which was embellished with jeweled bands of gold and copper, and then with it a shoulder, wrapped with loose silk and fanciful embroidery. Then came another arm, equally embellished and dainty in its clear wealth. The arms moved about without their owner, fingers wiggling slowly as if testing the air. And then, with only the messenger owl as witness, the hands reached forward and grasped the edge of the fairy ring, and a head of raven-black hair emerged from the glowing portal. Long, silky ringlets of abyssal night fell through the air, pooling on the earth as the creature effortlessly climbed to the surface. Green eyes, obstructed by nothing but a few stray hairs and glittering like gems in the low light, observed the brown owl with interest.

It was a little girl, hair as long as she was tall and embellished with all manner of finery. She was wearing silks of deep reds and browns, copper and rubies and earthy accents embellishing the already royal design. With bare feet and unearthly brilliance, she smiled at the owl, the roses which framed her head like a crown falling gently down the inky wave of hair as it moved.

“Well hello, little thing.”

The girl glanced around the clearing, wrinkling her nose in disgust as if she had smelt something foul. “I had forgotten how… impersonal everything feels.” The owl tilted its head, and hopped forward cautiously, holding the letter out to the little girl with attentive eyes. 

“Oh! Yes, thank you.” She took the letter, flipping it over to the back and reading the words printed there.

**Miss. R. Potter**

**The Clearing in the Woods.**

**Little Whinging, Surrey.**

She tilted her head, brushing her hand over something that seemed invisible to normal eyes but slightly troubling to her. The little girl grasped something on the parchment, as pulled at it as if pulling a loose string free from a shirt. Nodding in satisfaction at her handiwork, she turned back to the owl and pat it kindly. “Thank you for the letter, do you suppose I'll have to send one as well?”

It hooted in response, biting at her finger gently. “Yes, I suppose I would… Well, how about you stick around for a little while, hm? I'll have that letter all written up and for you in a day or so, I'm sure.”

It bobbed its head companionably, and settled down on the branch, content on waiting for as long as the little nature fae wished.

“Lovely. Thank you!”

Turning away from the owl, the little girl bounced lightly back to the still-glowing fairy ring, and proceeded to jump back into it without a second thought, disappearing back into the glowing vortex as if it was nothing but air. As she disappeared, the glowing earth gave one final pulse of light before tapering off into normalcy, the only thing remailing of the girl’s travels to be the circle of mushrooms that proved the events truly had conspired.

The owl hooted one final time, and the world returned to how it had been, completely void of the fae’s influence and empty of all irregularity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than how I usually write them, but this was more of an introduction to the current age than anything of true plot substance (though there's quite a bit of that spread in there too). Just an FYI, along with my back, i also live in the middle of Texas, and at this point everyone knows about the power outages and lack of warmth that we are currently facing (im under four blankets and still cold as I write this... lol) so while I am now officially returning after by brief, fortnight long break, updates might still be a few days apart because of the internet constantly going on and off.
> 
> The hogwarts letter: Yes, Rosa was only in the mortal realm to get the letter, this causes problems when wondering how the letter was even written if she hadn't been in britain while it was being written. The way Ill brush this question off is by making note of how the fae world that Rosa is residing in is technically still in Britain, as it is in the same geographical place as britain, just a different realm. The reason the magic of hogwarts was able to know that but not Dumbledore's is because the letters are going out to find a child's MAGIC, while the devices were keyed to her BODY. Two different things when regarding alternate planes of existence and all that wibbly wobbly stuff ;)
> 
> Sirius: Before the time skip, Sirius was about the same as he had been in canon, though he was most notably more focused on finding Rosa than seeking revenge, a change that also altered his now current personality. I would say that this Sirius is more mature than before-willing to be more of a family man but being unable to do so with the loss of Rosa in his life. He is no longer a rebel so much that he is a tired man with a great deal of regrets. The nearly two year long world-wide travels that he undertook also helped this personality shift along. However, a huge flaw in him is that while he is mostly (important distinction between completely) healed from his time in azkaban, he is haunted by both the dementors and the reason he was released in the first place, that being Rosa's disappearance. What will happen if he sees Rosa again? Well, that's still on the horizon.
> 
> Slytherin's Locket: We currently do not know where it is, though the fact that both the basement as well as the attic were left alone per Kreacher's request should clue you in to a potential future plot point where that is brought into question.
> 
> Rosa herself: This will be looked through with a lot more depth in the next chapter, but Rosa is very clearly not quite human anymore. She has a clear unnaturalness to her that changed not only her physical appearance but also her personality. THough, I wont go into greater detail because u know... you'll be seeing that in the next chapter :P


	13. What Makes a Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambition reveals itself in very different ways, twisting around the heart of a charity case as she designs a future in which it is her sitting upon the throne of mortal gods. Alternatively, the cunning that is shown in a free-spirited little boy can be seen quite a bit differently in the daughter of immortal tricksters, though the results are much the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make you read through an entire three scenes of Rosa and co. speaking in sidithe, even though at this point she is perfectly fluent. So, while in the future I will mark different languages with italics, this time I'll just leave you with the knowledge that all of the fae are speaking in it during the first half of this chapter ;)
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

Rosa flew out of the fairy ring, floating up into the air as if she had jumped into a pool, her feet pointed skywards as her hair flew about her head. She hung motionless in the air for a moment, weightless, before beginning to move backwards in the mockery of a flip, drifting down to the stone floor beneath her. Bare feet hit the warmed rocks, the girl adjusting to the change in gravity as if it were a daily occurrence. Her hair fell with her, betraying physics and instead dancing about in the air, bouncy curls of abyssal black weaving around her head like the halo of Lucifer. The little girl brushed herself off, seemingly attempting to rid herself of the magicless air of Privet Drive.

Rhiannon and Thimble sat on a nearby tree branch, their wings glistening with raindrops as a delicate mist fell from the cloudy sky. Rosa squinted up at the lazily rolling mists above her, observing how they twisted through the branches of impossibly tall trees and curled around dew-soaked leaves. It was not uncommon for the summer showers to appear more like mists in the forest, the clouds moving along through trees that were miles tall and impossible for air currents to avoid. She had once picked a particularly tall tree and climbed it up towards the clouds in order to sit among heavenly mists. It had taken hours upon hours to climb so high, even as the tree pushed her upwards with its own branches, but the feeling of weightlessness and the cool, thin air was well worth the wait. Rosa hadn’t even considered the lack of air at such an altitude, looking out at her home from a vantage point that was still lower than Elphame’s highest level.

Looking back down to the earth, the little girl peered around the clearing with intrigued eyes, watching as the roots of nearby trees shifted and cracked through the soil in an effort to please her. The western side of the forest had been her first attempt at connecting to the woods, as she had long since intertwined herself in Elphame. She had gotten perhaps a mile of forest connected to her magic, though there were hundreds if not thousands of miles more to go. Rosa didn’t expect to finish for another hundred years, but the wait would be well worth it, and she had already managed a great deal over the years, perhaps she would find a way to speed up the process.

“Poppet, have you got the letter?” The flowery language of the fae flitted through the air, the whimsical notes of beauty and grace swirling together to make understandable words. Turning back to the fairies, Rosa smiled assuredly as Thimble flew from her perch to instead settle on her shoulder, mossy hair obstructing her eyes as Rosa held the letter up to be seen.

“Right here! What do you think it says? Mum didn’t seem to know anything about Hogwarts.” Tiptoeing through the underbrush, Rosa effortlessly hopped along an invisible path, the pointy weeds and sharp thorns moving out of her way as she went. Elphame had changed very little since she first arrived, but the neverending woods that surrounded it had noticeably shifted, the forest’s magic slowly changing as she added her own to it. The change was far more pronounced at night, where the entire forest was alight with magic and power, every little blossom and leaf faintly radiating green light. She enjoyed sneaking out at the dead of night to slip through the trees, the whisper of wind brushing through her hair and a glowing green light at her fingertips.

Rhiannon settled onto her other shoulder, and Rosa sped up from her lazy walk into a quick run, jumping from rocks and trees as if it was as easy as breathing. Dampened earth clung to her feet and the hem of her dress, the lace and silk dancing wildly about her mid-calf as her feet pounded into the soil. Much of her physical appearance seemed to change as well, though Rosa was never quite sure if it was because she was growing or the magic around her was affecting her development. Either way, she now understood why Una kept her hair so long, as it was now silky to the point of being impossible to tangle, and flew behind her like the waves of the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. She kept it up most of the time, braided into elaborate patterns or curled about her head in a bun, but occasionally let it free to tumble and twist through the air as she went about the day, loving the feeling of wind through her hair as she scaled trees and crashed through the underbrush. Her eyes too, apparently, had fixed themselves over a period of months, though Rosa suspected that Fin had a part to play in that particular change. He had seemed far too smug about tossing out her glasses when she revealed that she didn’t need them anymore.

Speeding up, Rosa felt her magic rise up to greet her as the mud underfoot quickly became rocky stone, and a familiar cliff face rose up from the earth, the crystalline palace and a familiar ledge jutting out on the other side of the cavernous raveen. She pushed her magic downwards, feeling the earthy green travel down to her legs and feet and strengthening them. Shoving off the ground, the earth below her opened up into a thousand foot drop to the darkness below. For several seconds she was airborne, soaring through the sky as her propulsion sent her farther than a normal human could possibly jump. The darkness below her seemed to reach upwards to grab ahold of her ankles, until she touched back down on the crystal ledge and ducked into a roll, taking only a moment to make sure the two fairies on her shoulders were okay before sprinting off again, darting through the hall of diamond and rainbows that had been her introduction to Elphame.

Very quickly did Rosa come upon the crystal throne, sitting upon it being a familiar woman draped in the blues of the ocean, her eyes holding every star that ever existed behind them. Squealing happily, Rosa leapt up onto Una’s lap, holding up the letter with an excited grin.

“Mum-mum look! There was an owl just sitting up there, its magic was all weird and the trees were so tiny and lonely-” Una laughed lightly, taking the letter gently from Rosa’s outstretched hands as the girl jabbered on.

“Well, the mortal realm has a very different magic than ours, it is unsurprising that you picked up on it. Now, what do we have here?” Turning the letter over in her hands, Una cracked open the shockingly red seal, clumsily taking the parchment from its confines with a look of mild revulsion splashed across her face. Rosa watched with curiosity, observing the letter for the first time. It had been a long time since she had seen paper made of trees, it was very disconcerting now that she could feel the life inside of everything. Fae hated the idea of harming anything living for something so trivial as documentation, so anything important was instead carved into walls of stone or crystal, there for anyone to read with ease. Alternatively, every book that was held in the library was created through the delicate process of stone cutting, as fae had long since mastered the ability to alter rock and stone into something new, and impossibly thin slices of granite were easily substituted for paper made of tree corpses.

In comparison to dead trees in her forest, Rosa could tell that the tree this particular parchment had been made of was not sentient in the way that her trees were-the paper had no residual life to it that a fallen tree or a decaying stump would. It was a tad uncomfortable for her to observe something so… dead. Something so dead that it seemed to have never even existed.

“Oh dear, this is in written english… little rose of mine, could you read it to me?” Una had a particular look on her face, and Rosa giggled lightly while taking the dead parchment. Strangely enough, Rosa was one of the more well read creatures in the capital and its woods, as she apparently had quite the knack for understanding different alphabets and how to read and write them. Even if she had learned to write in the human english while she was still living in the mortal realm, Rosa was still quite proficient in it, even if there were no truly english texts in Elphame-only translatable books. She had taken to learning spoken word as well, but had gotten rather bored of it after mastering her fifth language-which had been the throat-scratching gobbledegook, and had been not only a struggle for her throat but a bore to her mind. Written word however, was her true specialty, and Rosa took great joy in learning everything from human latin to norse runes, hunting hungrily through the scripts of old and forgotten places in an effort to learn everything that there was about written word. Once she had gotten bored of that, and the supply of new alphabets ran dry, Rosa quickly became fascinated with the prospect of creating her _own_ alphabet, and as Fin desperately attempted to teach her mermish, she instead spent hours pouring over incredibly elaborate languages and the magics of written word, memorizing famously difficult codes and flowery fonts in an effort to understand the inter-complexities of languages.

Glancing over the elaborate crest that took up most of the first page, she observed for just a moment the badger, eagle, lion, and snake that encompassed the Hogwarts crest. Rosa began to read the simple english out loud to her mother, taking in what was written as Una nodded along. “It has my name up at the top, and then goes like this… Dear Miss. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.” Rosa squinted at the name signed at the bottom, trying to figure out why it felt familiar. “-and then it's signed by someone named Minerva McGonagall.” Glancing back to Una for a moment, she then turned to the second page and read through the list of supplies.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM**

**First-year students will require:**

  * **Three sets of plain work robes (black)**


  * One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear


  * One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)


  * One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)



**Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags.**

**COURSE BOOKS**

**All students should have a copy of each of the following:**

**The standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)**

**By Miranda Goshawk**

**A History of Magic**

**By Bathilda Bagshot**

**Magical Theory**

**By Adalbert Waffling**

**A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration**

**By Emeric Switch**

**One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi**

**By Phyllida Spore**

**Magical Drafts and Potions**

**By Arsenius Jigger**

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**

**By Newt Scamander**

**The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection**

**By Quentin Trimble**

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

**1 wand**

**1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**

**1 set glass or crystal phials**

**1 telescope**

**1 set of brass scales**

**Students may also bring, if they desire, and owl OR a cat OR a toad**

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS**

**ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK**

Rosa was happy to note that the uniform didn’t specify the need for shoes, which would have been wretched if they were specifically required. Looking over the other equipment at the bottom of the list, Rosa found her eyes planted firmly on ‘1 wand’, finding that she was very curious about what wands would entail. Of course, she had assumed that magical humans had wands of some sort, as that's what all the normal human fantasy books from her old school alluded to, but she couldn't quite comprehend how a piece of dead wood could ever help her be better at magic. Perhaps she could use something other than dead wood? Using a corpse as a weapon made her feel very uneasy.

“What does that page say?” Una had been peering over her shoulder, her chin resting on Rosa’s shoulder as she pulled the little girl comfortably into her lap. Settling back further into her mother’s embrace, Rosa repeated the entire list back to her, making note of the fact that brooms were apparently a mode of transport and that the uniform didn’t seem to require her to wear shoes. It had been a great deal of fun for Rosa when she had first learned of the anti-shoe culture of the fae, but after developing her magic and becoming properly ensconced in the faerie realm, she soon came to realize why such a hatred existed. The connection between a body and the earth-and by extension between an individual's magic and the Mother-was made through physical contact, so it was impossible to fully connect with the earth’s magic when wearing something which covered the one appendage that was almost always touching the earth. Of course, it wasn’t so much of an issue for the fae who lived deeper underground and were more in tune with the Mother, but for creatures like Thimble and Rhiannon, or the harpies who inhabited the upper floors of Elphame, it was extremely important to have as much connection as possible when they were able to touch down to the earth.

In the end, she herself had found that shoes would be incredibly stifling for her specifically, as her magic was so deeply embedded in flora and by extension the earth that cutting her off from it did a great deal of harm. Someone like Una, who got power from the sun predominantly, wouldn’t be as affected (but certainly quite uncomfortable) with the constraints.

Pointing to the third to last line, Rosa looked back up to Una questioningly. “Do you think I could bring a toad or cat? It would be lovely if I could bring something from home with me.” 

Una pursed her lips, squinting at the line Rosa pointed out before shrugging. “I suppose as long as the mortals can’t tell that it is not of their world, I see no problem with it.” Rosa frowned, it would be awfully difficult to find a toad small enough to pass off as a mortal one, as most of the amphibians in her forest were at least a foot wide if not larger. The cats were also odd colorings in comparison to the ones she remembered from Privet Drive, and had a habit of speaking in tongues.

Shaking her head of the unpleasant memories, Rosa folded the two pieces of paper up, deciding that it would be best to simply write back and return to her daily activities. She didn’t really feel the need to go all the way back to the mortal realm just to hand off the letter though, so she would likely ask Thimble to do it.

Hugging Una goodbye, Rosa hopped off of the woman’s lap and took off towards the left hall, her two fairies following diligently behind. 

Pushing through crystalline double doors, the trio pranced along through a long hall decorated with flowering vines and earthly moss. It was one of her more traveled walkways, and Rosa couldn’t help but decorate the barren walls with a splash of color. Humming slightly, she turned just as Thimble whisked past her ear, the fairy on a warpath towards some unknown destination.

Whirling around, she skipped backwards while Rhiannon tisked at her friend, floating swiftly but cautiously by Rosa’s side. “Do you think Fin will tell me more about the soul shard? He seemed to think it was acting rather pleasant last week, perhaps he will have something nice to say.”

Apparently, Fin had long since dubbed the soul ‘healed’, though from her perspective it was only slightly lighter than before, and the dandelion’s petals were no longer wilted. She had questioned him thoroughly about the little flower, as while she still felt pity for it, there was also a curiosity that was difficult to ignore.

“Sometimes Rosa, a soul can be healed as best as physically possible and will still be cruel and unforgiving.” He had held the flower up to the light in front of her face, twisting it around and allowing the little girl to see how each vibrantly red petal gleamed with horrible, twisted beauty. “Not all souls are good, and some are just naturally... _cruel._ Even the best soul doctor in all of Elphame would be unable to heal a soul such as that, as there is simply nothing to _heal._ This is what the soul is supposed to be, a vibrant picture of dark and light hues embodying bloodthirsty destruction. You cannot fix a soul that is already how it is supposed to be, and instead of trying to fix it, we must learn how to work _with_ it.”

After that, Rosa had tried very hard to convince Finvarra to let her ‘speak’ with the soul as he did-to weave through its strands of life and memories and understand what it was-understand _who_ it was. Sadly, the man had held firm, assuring her that despite her good intentions, the soul was old and war-trodden, and would not find much amusement and happiness in speaking with her.

“Perhaps if the soul was younger-perhaps if it didn’t hold so many memories of destruction-you would be able to speak with it and hold a conversation. But it is so small and so old and its life is so full of war that I worry that neither of you would gain anything but grief from such an exchange.” Fin had had a peculiar look on his face when speaking those words, and Rosa had not quite been able to place what it had been. Either way, she had politely thanked him for his consideration and proceeded to bug him about it whenever she found herself particularly bored.

As it was, the little red dandelion had become something of an obsession for the High King over the years, his little project growing from an effort to heal it to an experiment into human consciousness as he delicately and expertly weaved through its memories. 

“Part of healing a soul is understanding it.” Fin had set aside many hours for her to ask question after question, the curiosity tumbling from her lips as she watched him work with wide eyes. “My teacher was quite adept in unweaving the soul in order to study each strand that it existed as. It was an awfully useful way to heal broken souls like this one, though it's such a tiny piece that I find myself struggling to find much in it besides a few trace memories and hateful emotions that I've already purged.”

Twirling around a corner, Rosa let muscle memory guide her down to the medical wing as her mind continued to wander. She had been infinitely curious about the ability to study a soul, though it was apparently quite labor intensive and slow-two things that generally steered Rosa away from learning new things. She had found that while learning was a great love of hers, learning things that took a lot of work but showed little payoff often dissuaded her from attempting them. To Rosa, if something took a long time and was well worth it, it was time well spent, but if she would have to spend three decades of constant hard work just to read souls, then she was far more inclined to focus her energy elsewhere. Until, of course, she found that the time was available to attempt such a thing, but in her two years of devouring fae magic at alarming rates, she doubted that an opportunity would come in her rapidly expanding schedule.

A vine wrapped around her ankle, and Rosa found herself stopped in front of the tall door to the medical room. Thanking the vine quietly, Rosa peaked the door open and glanced around, not wanting to disturb Fin in the event that he was focused on something important. Thimble and Rhiannon breezed past her, fluttering their wings quietly as they searched for a comfortable place to sit. She pulled the door open all the way, closing it quietly behind her as she looked around the calming room. It seemed that each day there were more and more plants, the one sterile area having slowly become overgrown with coy vines and stubborn weeds. Fin sat at the desk, head bent over something that was emitting a low red light. She was quiet when padding over to his side, watching with careful eyes as a petal of scarlet light was pulled carefully from the dandelion, the petal further breaking apart till it was simply strings of glowing magic.

“Papa? I've got my Hogwarts letter.” He nodded incrementally, holding up a single finger as he pieced the strings back into the shape of a petal, easily connecting it back to the full flower. Setting the soul vessel down on his desk, Fin turned to her with glittering blue eyes, holding out a hand. “May I see?”

She smiled, handing the two papers to the man, who winced at the material before glancing over their contents. Many fae never bothered to learn to write more than Sidithe, with a smaller population also learning the Old Tongue’s alphabet for ritualistic purposes. Many royals (this including Una) went the extra mile and also learned some lesser known runic alphabets, but none that she had met had ever bothered learning anything human related besides spoken word. Fin however, had decided quite firmly to learn the english alphabet for her sake, as it was easier for him to help her with languages if he was also knowledgeable in her native tongue.

He read through both papers quick enough, and set both of them onto the desk alongside the flower. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to write them back then?” She nodded, watching as he reached for a small stack of stone paper and a quill. Fin was the one of the few creatures in Elphame besides Rosa who wrote often enough to need sheets lying around, so he was the first place for her to find stationary. Taking the quill and parchment from his outstretched hands, Rosa began to write carefully, being sure that her delicate, loopy script was consistent and professional.

**Minerva McGonagall,**

**Thank you very much for the letter informing me of my acceptance to your school. Me and my family are delighted to learn of my acceptance and I personally look forward to learning at your institution.**

**I wish you well, Rosa Potter.**

Signing it off, Rosa looked over her spelling and grammar carefully, making sure she didn’t accidentally write with sidithian or latin grammar, as she had found herself doing on occasion. Smiling at the final result, she delicately set the paper down in order to dry, turning her attentions back to Fin, who had returned to the flower and was pulling more and more petals off.

Rosa sat and watched as red light glowed steadily from the dandelion, barely noticing as the paper was taken from the desk by the two fairies and rolled up, a piece of twine carefully curled around it and tied up with a rose bud for decoration. Fin picked the last petal off and added its strings of light to the pile as the fairies sped out of the room, the scroll held between them as their voices started to rise up in an argument. Rosa let out an amused sigh, eyes widening with curiosity as Fin began to rearrange the strings of soul, sorting them into little piles of crimson light. She felt a root come up and curve into the mockery of a chair behind her, and Rosa settled down onto it, letting her legs dangle in the air.

She would brave the mortal realm some other time, she had till September to do so after all. Rosa frowned slightly, she hadn’t ever needed to keep track of human months, it was about time she started up at it again. It wouldn’t do to guess the wrong date and miss the… her frown deepened, how was she supposed to get to Hogwarts? It would be rather easy for her to open up a fairy ring and just show up at the correct destination, but Rosa wanted to join in with the other children and make friends.

_Perhaps someone would tell me while I go shopping?_

But where was she supposed to do her shopping? Rosa was quickly realizing that the letter had been quite uninformative. Peering back up at Fin, she tapped her fingers against the table quietly as he worked, eyes wide and silently begging him to answer her questions.

“What's the matter little rose, you're staring a hole into my head.”

She leaned closer, trying to fill the corner of his vision as he continued to work. “Papa, how do you think I'll get to the magical human market to buy all these things? How am I to go to Hogwarts anyhow?”

Fin hummed, separating two strands of soul into separate groups. “It is quite easy to find where the mortal realm’s magic is the most focused, I'm sure it would be no trouble finding their market. Do you suppose it is nearby their little village called London?” She nodded in agreement, waving a few dangling branches out of the way as they threatened to drop leaves onto the desk.

“But what about Hogwarts?”

He hummed again, pulling at a string of soul that was slightly darker than the rest. “One of the mortals would tell you, I'm sure.” He smiled in her direction, pulling at the dark soul string as he did, the darkened thing unraveling slightly at the aggression. “I'm sure it will all work out for you, little rose of mine, nothing is out of reach if you put your mind to it. Mortal magicians and their secrets will be no different.”

* * *

Sirius touched down on the damp field that made up the outskirts of Hogwarts’ lawn, stumbling off of his bike and into the wet grass as he cursed under his breath. Luckily, the only thing around to see his fumble was a particularly sour-looking krup pup, who sat stiffly at the door of Hagrid’s hut while pretending it was not wagging its stumpy tail. Waving companionably towards the dog, he adjusted his jacket and made his way towards the castle, pulling his windswept hair up into some sort of updo that could vaguely resemble a bun. It was good that the students were long since gone, as his rocky landing had been rather embarrassing.

Dumbledore met him at the front entryway, a genial smile plastered across his face and hands folded carefully in front of him. Sirius narrowed his eyes unkindly, brushing past the man as he spoke a greeting. “Sirius my boy, what a lovely surprise-”

“I'm not in the mood, Chief Warlock, I’m here to speak with Professor McGonagall.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, matching Sirius’ stride as he caressed his beard in a way that made the younger man incredibly annoyed. Would it kill the bastard to act like a normal human for once? “Yes, I suppose she sent you a letter about the newest development with dear Miss. Potter? There is no need to speak with her if that is the case, I already took care of it.”

Sirius clicked his tongue, passing by familiar halls on his path towards the Deputy Headmistress’ office. “With all due respect Chief Warlock, I find myself less and less trustful of your tactics.” Turning a corner, he nodded towards the approaching Hagrid, who waved clumsily with his one free arm, the other carrying a small litter of krup puppies, all likely about to join their sibling at the man’s hut. “-but if you would like to speak with me on the topic of the next wizengamot meeting, I would be more inclined to have a conversation.” 

They made it to Minerva’s office door, and he finally turned to look Dumbledore in the eyes. “I don't mean to insult you, headmaster, but I am not your student any longer, so I would appreciate it if you would stop butting into my personal goings.” 

He knocked on the door, awaiting an answer as Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes bore into his own. The old man appeared mournful, but Sirius had seen the very same look on a dog begging for scraps, and his eyes narrowed further. The barest of flickers behind Dumbledore’s gaze made Sirius step back incrementally, feeling suddenly put on edge. As quick as it came it was gone, and the headmaster stepped back with a remorseful smile.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Black. I hope that one day we can reconcile as friends of equal standings. Until then however, I will respectfully restrain from ‘butting into’ your life.” Nodding slowly, Sirius watched the man walk away for a moment before fully opening the office door, stepping inside with solid steps. 

The room was much the same as it had been in his school years, and Sirius got an instant feeling of nostalgia as he looked around at the proud but not overdone gryffindor regalia that littered the place. Even in his own home, there was very little gryffindor pride decorating the walls, as he had not only felt the need to distance himself from the memories but had also found himself increasingly frustrated with Narcissa through the process of deciding on wall colors, as she almost instantly vetoed all red toned colors. Apparently red was too ‘bold’ and would ‘cause him unnecessary stress’.

Minerva Mcgonagall had also changed very little, giving credence to her good genes and powerful magic. Her hair was as black as ever, tied tightly into a bun that sat at the base of her neck. However, a few stray hairs revealed her frazzled and shaken mind, and he remembered the messy nature of the letter he received and donned a concerned expression.

“You alright there Minny? What’s happened with Rosa? You weren’t very elaborate in your letter.” The woman waved him over, sighing under her breath as she attempted to organize her desk into a manageable mess. His concern doubled when he took in the obvious chaos that littered the usually tidy space, watching with unease as his old head of house seemed to age before his eyes.

“Well… Rosalie received a hogwarts letter, which means that she is undoubtedly either in Britain or very close to it.” Sirius leaned forward in his seat, hands bracing the arm rests as he watched her face.

“So you sent the letter out? Were there enchantments placed to track where the owl went? What have they said so far?”

“One question at a time, Mr. Black, I very well can’t answer them all at once.” Sitting back, flustered, Sirius listened patiently as she recounted the entire tale for him, from the coincidence of spotting Rosa’s name at the top of the letter to Dumbledore casting tracking charms on the parchment. Sirius could admit that it was a good idea, though the man had no business doing such a thing without his express permission.

“-truthfully, I worry that the letter may be delivered, but by the time we get to the spot she’ll already be carted off to another place and we won't ever get a return letter.” Minerva sighed tiredly, the stress and worry apparent in her expression. Sirius had a similar worry, as there was not much that could be done if Rosa’s kidnapper decided to continue on the move. He could only assume that they had always been moving, traversing from place to place so that they couldn’t be caught by any authorities or worried godfathers.

Leaning back in his chair, Sirius looked out the window behind Minerva’s desk, blinking in surprise as a speck of brown on the horizon got closer and closer. Leaning forward, he squinted at the form, trying to discern what it could be with little luck. As the thing got closer however, he realized with mild confusion that it was a barn owl flapping manically through the air, flying as though the gates of hell had opened up behind it. Sirius tilted his head, observing how it held onto it’s luggage strangely, as if worried the cargo would be somehow damaged in the flight.

Soaring into the room, the bird landed heavily on the desk, startling the both of them with both its boldness and apparent anxiety. Now that he was closer, Sirius could observe the letter with a more refined eye, squinting slightly at the odd choice of wrapping. The parchment itself was unnaturally white-almost bluish gray in color-and bent strangely into a tube. It was tied with thin bronze twine, which had been curled around the parchment a few times before notting up with what appeared to be a rose bud.

“Goodness!” Minerva exclaimed with clear shock, taking the letter delicately from the owl, who ruffled its feathers and flew off to a perch. The woman was careful in unraveling the parchment, rubbing it and humming with confusion. “Strangely smooth…”

Sirius was equally intrigued, watching as the parchment unfolded into a uniform shape, unbending and unfolding as if it had never been rolled to begin with. Minerva read through the letter quickly, eyes widening as her hands clutched the strangely perfect parchment.

“Imposible…”

“What? What is it?” Sirius leaned forward, taking the letter from the woman and quickly reading through it. His eyes were glued to the last line, the words buzzing through his mind as Minny let out a shaky breath, as if she was making a considerable effort not to cry. He could already feel the tears building up, a droplet falling down his cheek and landing onto the strange paper, falling from it and onto the floor below instead of being absorbed into the material.

He took a deep breath of air, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he choked out a laugh. “Well… that answers that then.”

For a moment it didn't matter that the tracking charms were apparently faulty, that they still didn't know where she was. Just seeing her careful handwriting, the loopy letters so elegant and childish but wholly how he would have thought she would write. The letter was impeccable, tied up with a bloody rose and with no hidden meanings in the slightest; the knowledge that the owl would have never taken a letter from anyone other than his goddaughter assured that it wasn’t a forgery-that it was truly from her. Rosa was coming to Hogwarts, somehow she was going to arrive.

‘I wish you well, Rosa Potter.’

And somehow, that was enough for him. After two long years, that was enough.

* * *

**Three Days Later:**

Sunlight streamed through the window of an ancient library, hitting a large stack of books which gathered around and on top of an old oak desk. The rays of light bounced harmlessly against the old leather, a wall of tomes hiding the sleeping form of a young girl, who sat slumped over behind the desk, her hair flying out and making something of a halo about her head.

Below the girl sat the shadowed form of a person, identical to that of the little girl but with a few key differences. It was elongated to the point of being unnatural, the girl’s bushy hair curling up like horns atop it’s head. The shadow crept up from its two dimensional plane, dark hands curling around the girl’s arm and squeezing gently, the whisper of wind glancing against her face and shoulders as if the thing had truly spoken. Quick as it had come, the shadowy form fell back into the dark recesses of the girl’s feet, curling up and around her laces before completely fading from view.

Hermione yawned tiredly, rubbing the back of her neck as she slowly looked up from where her head had been nestled between her arms. It appeared to be sunrise, which meant that she had fallen asleep in the library… again. 

“Hmpf, I wonder if Daisy is up.” Rubbing her neck again, Hermione rose from her seat in the Malfoy library, not noticing how another hand seemed to join hers in rubbing out the painful knot. If it was so early in the morning, it was doubtful that Draco or Lord Malfoy were awake yet. Grabbing the nearest book, one that she believed to hold the history of wand making, she hooked it under her arm and moved towards the large double doors, stifling a yawn as she went. Hermione had gotten used to the shadow taking on a more human form, now that it was free to move about as it pleased, she felt far more connected to it. Though, she would likely become less aware of it once she went off to Hogwarts and was forced to hold it back. 

Lady Malfoy had explained what her aura felt like to adults and even some other children, and how her shadow constantly rearing up to protect her would guarantee trouble once she went out in public.

“Now Hermione, this is a rather simple fix, given that you have the proper incentive and willpower.” Lady Malfoy had explained occlumency to her, and had employed Mr. Snape to help her on the beginning steps of it. The practice, which was apparently most commonly used to block out a mind reader or ‘legilimens’ by building up mental walls and locking away memories and secrets in one's mind or ‘mindscape’. Another use however, was much less known and by extension much less practiced, was the capability of concealing one’s magical core and abilities from all around them. Lady Malfoy had made the case that Hermione would be able to suppress the effect of her shadow’s magic on those around her, if only she became proficient in this particular branch of occlumency. Hermione had found rather quickly that she had a knack for the practice, much to Mr. Snape’s quiet delight. Before she turned eleven she had all but mastered it, and had found herself starting on the general layout of her mindscape once Mr. Snape decided that her mental walls held up to his own personal standard.

That's what she had been doing in the library that night, mapping out every crook and cranny of the place. She could make her mindscape whatever she wished afterall, why not her favorite place on earth? There was the added bonus of the Malfoy Library being filled to the brim with secret rooms which led to dangerous and dark books or artifacts, all of which she had either found or been preemptively told to leave well enough alone. If she was truly supposed to keep her memories and secrets hidden in her mind, the best place to do so was the very home infamous for the dark little secrets that she too hoped to keep hidden.

Closing the library’s doors behind her, Hermione walked at a fast pace towards the children’s wing, knowing that if Daisy was up she would be in the sitting room or perhaps the parlor, no doubt doing needlepoint or reading the potions advice column of the Daily Prophet. Really, the nanny had no hope of impressing Mr. Snape the way she was going about it, no matter the fact that the man was clearly uninterested.

“Now now Hermione, you have better things to worry about than your nanny’s pitiful love life.” Muttering to herself, she turned the corner and ran right into someone, the both of them making noises of discontent. Grunting slightly, she felt a pressure on her back which kept her from falling, the other person was much less lucky, and fell to the floor with a familiar ‘oi!’.

Shaking her head, Hermione looked down at her best friend with a raised eyebrow. “Honestly Draconis, what are you doing awake at an hour like this? You never rise with the sun.”

Draco rubbed his rear, where the majority of the force landed, and glared at her. “Quiet you, I'm trying to get out of etiquette classes.” Rising clumsily to his feet, he made an effort to dart down the hall before she reached out and grasped his arm firmly, hauling him back as she started walking back the way they came.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t need to take etiquette lessons anymore if it were not for your wretched inability to have tact in any casual situation.” He made a noise between a whine and a groan, before stumbling around and attempting to walk normally as she pulled at his right sleeve. “I stopped taking them after only a month, and I started just days after I arrived here! You’ve been spending _years_ attempting to get out of your lessons instead of actually learning anything from them.”

“Well maybe if they weren’t so bloody boring-”

“Language!”

Upon the realization that the people fostering her were not only rich but _nobles,_ and that Lord Malfoy was also a _politician_ and Lady Malfoy hosted _gallas,_ Hermione had thrown herself headfirst into the study of both magical politics and etiquette. She had been, truthfully, quite disappointed with both, as magical creature rights were simply pitiful and blood purists ran rampant and without shame. Arranged marriages were commonplace and inbreeding appeared to be not only socially accepted in higher circles but could be found in her own magical lineage. She realized that, along with being penance for the family’s past sins, Hermione was more or less seen as a charity case and a way for the Malfoys to heighten their public image. Of course, she knew that the family genuinely cared for her, as Lady Malfoy smiled at her just as warmly as she did to Draco and Lord Malfoy personally lectured her on politics when she requested lessons, but it still made rage boil up inside her at the thought. How _dare_ the world see her as nothing more than a poor little squibb-born girl who was taken in on the pity of great and powerful people. How _dare_ they think so little of her. Even her distant relative, the disgraced politician Bartemius Crouch, had looked down at her pitifully and turned his back, barring any future meetings that she might wish to have with him. _That_ insult had sent her into a rage that had nearly leveled half the estate, much to her own embarrassment and the horror of all who had witnessed it.

Hermione had sworn to herself that she would prove every last one of them wrong. She would face every entitled pig that was thrown her way and stomp them into the dirt. She would be better, and once she proved that she was just as deserving-no, that she was _more_ deserving than them, then she would fix all the wretchedly horrible things that the magical world believed to be good or normal.

She pushed open the doors of the sitting room just as Daisy put down the Daily Prophet, the groaning Draco trailing pitifully behind her. “Good morning Miss. Pennyfeather, I caught Draconis attempting to escape his morning lessons.” The boy’s groaning rose in volume.

Daisy smiled sardonically in Draco’s direction. “Well, if you're that ready to get it over with, and since you're already up, I suppose we shall start four hours early.”

Hermione giggled cheerly as Draco grumbled something about wishing he had a wand already, causing Daisy to whack him lightly with the paper as he slumped over in his chair. “Come now Mr. Malfoy, heirs of great houses do not _slouch.”_

Hermione was also quite excited to get a wand, and had been researching wand lore in an effort to understand the inter-complexities of how they were made and how they were chosen for a person. Strangely enough, not only was it so that a wand’s personal decision actually was the deciding factor, but the personality of a person played a great deal in which wands would choose them. Hermione knew from her research that she would prefer to have a dragon heartstring core, as they were supposed to produce the most powerful spells and generally allowed for faster spell learning, but would not be able to decide that for herself. It was upsetting to read that the wand was supposed to choose _her,_ and that she would supposedly have no say in the matter, as she would rather enjoy mixing the most powerful core with the most powerful wood to get the best effect. It seemed though, that whatever wand chose her would be the best fit and would supposedly work the best for her specifically. So, despite her disappointment with the finicky nature of wands, she accepted that this was one branch of magic that she had no control over. Despite this disappointment, Hermione still found the lore behind wands riveting, and had spent many hours combing through confusing books detailing wand woods and cores and the most famous wand makers of the past and present.

Settling primly onto the seat between Daisy and Draco, Hermione smiled down to the house elf that popped in with a proper english breakfast for her. She had been, at first, utterly disgusted with the concept of elf enslavement, and still held the opinion that they deserved far more rights than they were getting. However, the Malfoy elfs were raised with iron wills and sharp tongues, and all agreed that they enjoyed the life they had, so she had been forced to fold her plans of elf-rights into a pocket in her quickly growing mindscape and settle for being unyieldingly polite to each one that crossed her path instead.

Cutting into an egg with her fork, Hermione ate with the impeccable table manners that Draco stubbornly refused to replicate, sipping her pumpkin juice daintily as he pointedly and disgustingly chewed with his mouth open. Daisy seemed to still be deciding between cursing his mouth shut or letting him get the mood out of his system, watching his display of defiance with the hard eyes of a strict teacher. Truthfully, Draco could use perfect manners befit of a prince at any time he chose, but instead saved them for special instances like gallas and yule, or when rich politicians or influential people came into his general vicinity.

 _A true slytherin._ She thought to herself, tamping down a laugh as Draco slouched back elegantly in his seat and made a show of feeling incredibly oppressed, lamenting over the unfairness of his life as Daisy became more and more unamused.

Turning from the pair, she reached for the book she had set on the table and set it under her arm, quickly finishing her breakfast and standing from the table. Catching Draco’s pleading eyes as he silently begged for salvation, she smiled, victorious, and made her way to the nearest couch, opening up her book and getting comfortable in the plush cushions.

**Chapter XVIII: Garrick Ollivander (pre 1908-present)**

**Sir Garrick Ollivander is thought to have been born in the early 20th century, and while the man himself has yet to confirm a date of his birth and records continue to be surprisingly vague, it has been generally believed that he was born no later than 1908. The Ollivander name is currently one of the most well respected wand making names of the current time, as the family has been long since known to be full of extraordinary wand makers spanning back to 300 B.C.**

**The following description of the powers and properties of various wand woods are taken from notes made, over a long career, by Sir Garrick Ollivander, widely considered the best wandmaker in the world. As will be seen, Sir Ollivander believes that wand wood has almost human powers of perception and preferences. Sir Ollivander introduces his notes on wand woods thus:**

**Every single wand is unique and will depend for its character on the particular tree and magical creature from which it derives its materials. Moreover, each wand, from the moment it finds its ideal owner, will begin to learn from and teach its human partner. Therefore, the following must be seen as general notes on each of the wood types I like to work with best, and ought not to be taken to describe any individual wand.**

**Only a minority of trees can produce wand quality wood (just as a minority of humans can produce magic). It takes years of experience to tell which ones have the gift, although the job is made easier if Bowtruckles are found nesting in the leaves, as they never inhabit mundane trees. The following notes on various wand woods should be regarded very much as a starting point, for this is the study of a lifetime, and I continue to learn with every wand I make and match.**

Flipping through the next several pages, Hermione found with great delight that Sir Ollivander detailed each of the wand woods that he used typically, ranging from Acacia to Yew. Each wood had at least a paragraph to their names, detailing both the woods magical properties as well as what type of person each wood generally preferred. Settling back in her seat, Hermione set out to predict what wood would best suit her.

* * *

_Smug twit._

Draco watched as Hermione had a grand old time reading on the couch, quite clearly enjoying herself as he suffered meer feet away. Truly, etiquette lessons should be considered a cruel and unusual punishment that was dished out to fun-loving children, beating down their free will as lectures about the different types of spoons and how to make your spine a ruler spun through their minds. It was not only his right but his _duty_ to fight tooth and nail against the lessons, and he stood by the idea that the only thing worse was talks of _marriage._

Truly, Draco was horribly opressed.

Leaning further backwards in his seat, Draco took in the room for a moment before falling back forward, the legs of his chair clacking against the wood below and making poor Daisy’s eye twitch in obvious irritation. Really, there was no point to being snooty and polite in the comfort of his own home, what was the reason for acting all posh and uppity while lounging about in his sleepwear? All of the people who knew him were already quite aware of who he really was, and none of them would dare to tell Lord Whats-His-Face or Lady Cheek-Pincher about his daily escapades. Did he agree that brown nosing and impeccable manners were not only a requirement but also an ingrained part of social gatherings? Of course, but he would sooner lounge across hot coals than walk around with his nose so far up in the air that all that people could see were his nostrils.

Daisy whacked the rolled up newspaper lightly against his head, ruffling the already frumpled hair and making him grumble. Sitting up somewhat straight, he smiled with faux pleasantness and imagined how Daisy would look with a duck bill instead of a mouth, quacking unpleasantly and no doubt angrily. He had spent far too much time attempting to escape the mockery of a lesson to sit around as he was, there was simply no reason to be up and about unless he was doing no good. Besides, he had planned to escape to the west wing tower and practice his potion making without Daisy sighing about Sev or Hermione chiding him for doing magic before he should be allowed to do so. Honestly, that girl was so hypocritical, she had been doing bloody _black magic_ since merlin knew when, she was certainly one to talk about underage magic use.

_She’ll probably start practicing the first year spells the second she gets a bloody wand._

His eyes wandered as Daisy fell into a familiar rant, watching with annoyance as Hermione serenely read through a no doubt incredibly dull book, her back straighter than a ruler and lips pursed in obvious amusement at his predicament. She looked up suddenly, and their eyes locked for a moment, her gaze was infuriatingly smug, practically radiating poshness as she smiled in a cruel way. He blinked, and stuck out his tongue, receiving a similar expression from the girl as her eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“-and if you would designate not to tarnish Miss. Granger’s spectacular manners with your unseemly gaping, we could return to the lesson.”

Hermione’s constant poshness was perfectly fine however, as she had simply always been that way. It was easy to tell when someone was faking their feelings of superiority and when they actually knew that they were superior in some way, and Draco held far more annoyance with fakers than people like Hermione Jean Granger, who walked around as if she was smarter, stronger, and bolder than you because she likely _was._ Truthfully, he had been quite annoyed with her perfect-ness when she had first come under her family’s roof, but after the... _incident_ a few months later, he had started to realize that perhaps she was deserving of not only respect but fear.

“Focus, Mr. Malfoy, daydreaming is just as impolite as refusing to shake a man’s hand.” Turning to the woman, Draco made a point to slouch further into his seat, sticking out his tongue and generally making his expression as ‘impolite’ as possible.

“The day I pay attention in these infernal classes is the day you prove I have imperfect manners when conversing with polite company. I refuse to believe that these are either necessary or at all constructive.” A giggle from the couches spurred him on, and Draco further embellished his tone as it took on a lamenting quality. “You should be locked up for such a crime as this, Miss. Pennyfeather. If my mother knew what horrid tortures you were inflicting on me, you would be out the door in an instant!”

Daisy’s face took on a lovely shade of magenta, and before she could so much as _consider_ wacking him a third time, a deep, amused voice spoke up from the dorway.

“I am rather certain she would request more intensive punishments, or have you forgotten who your mother is?”

* * *

Severus was finding himself wishing that he had never allowed Dumbledore to goad him into a Hogwarts professor position.

It had all started with the blasted Weasley twins deciding to get themselves sorted into his house, bringing with them nothing but chaos and a great deal of intra-house duels. The trio they had created with the Meng heiress only added to his chronic headaches, and once the quiet girl decided to join them in pranking escapades, it had seemed that things went wrong every other day. The only positive he could see was that the stuffy purebloods that made up the majority of slytherin were surprisingly well behaved after the self-titled blood traitors had taken it upon themselves to prank the living daylights out of anyone who showed hints of being blood supremacists. 

Truly, it was a struggle for him to decide if the constant pranks were worth the increase in tense but positive inter-house relations.

Walking steadily through the children's wing of Malfoy Manor, Severus contemplated the two children currently living in said wing. It was his own personal opinion that Hermione Granger was destined for slytherin, and while he was not excited for the coming school year where she would no doubt stir the pot and crumble the already fragile hierarchy, he was far more worried about his own godson’s sorting.

Draco was also a shoe-in for slytherin as well, but his cunning and ambition lended him to being far more inclined towards the Weasley terror’s methods of madness. He would not have been so concerned about the potential alliance they would produce if it were not for Draco’s rather stressing tendency towards doing the exact opposite of what people generally wanted him to do-unless it benefited him of course. The Malfoy/Weasley blood feud had been quite blatantly public for centuries, and while the twins were seemingly on a rather strained standings with the rest of their family, the feud still held strong. It was his worry that Draco would go out of his way to get on with the twins, and then the combination of the boy’s obsession with exploding potions and the twins’ general nonsense would no doubt level the school and send the entire common room into the black lake.

Perhaps he was catastrophizing a tad.

Throwing open the doors to the parlor, Severus got the tail end of a rather dramatic monologue over the unfairness of etiquette lessons. Raising an eyebrow, he observed the scene, finding that as Hermione sat politely on a couch along the west wall, Draco and Miss. Pennyfeather sat at the table in the center of the room, one of them having notably better posture than the other.

“-If my mother knew what horrid tortures you were inflicting on me, you would be out the door in an instant.” Severus rolled his eyes, debating whether Draco was simply being dramatic or truly believed that Narcissa would fold to her brat of a son’s whining.

“I am rather certain she would request more intensive punishments, or have you forgotten who your mother is?” All eyes turned to him, Hermione only regarding him with a polite nod before retreating back to the massive pages of a fairly recent-looking tome. Draco groaned in annoyance, snatching a grape from the food platter while Miss. Pennyfeather gathered herself, appearing rather pink.

“I apologize for the state of the room, Mr Snape. I'm afraid Draco has been rather uncooperative today.” He waved her off, walking to the third chair around the table and settling into it, calling for an elf to bring him a small breakfast. He had found that the past three days had been full of Dumbledore and Sirius Black butting heads and Minerva looking worryingly forlorn. Apparently, Rosa Potter’s acceptance letter and the following (and quite punctual) letter from the girl herself had risen the shackles of all who were particularly fond of the Potters. Truly, he was far more intrigued by the fascinating parchment the girl had written on, as it was not only near impossible to tear but had a consistency that reminded him-strangely enough-of smooth stone.

“It is of no consequence, I am quite used to Draco’s poor manners and even poorer tact.” The boy promptly stuck out his tongue, managing to prove his point while insulting him at the exact same time. The elf popped back into the room, setting down a small breakfast of eggs and toast in front of him before popping away.

Hermione set her book to the side, watching Severus with the calculating gaze that she seemed to use almost constantly. “Mr. Snape, I mean no offense, but what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be spending the week at Hogwarts.”

He lamented her perceptiveness for a moment as he bit into an egg, contemplating how to respond. On one hand, it was strangely difficult to get lies past the girl for some reason, no doubt a mix of her black magic and the legilimency training he suspected she was undertaking on her own. On the other hand, the news of Rosa Potter’s first written transgressions with the wizarding world were currently being kept quiet, as even the minister agreed that it was best not to tip the public off to such a shift in the Potter Kidnapping case, lest the kidnapper get scared and drag her back into hiding.

“I have taken a break from the machinations of my coworkers and employer in a desperate effort to not go insane.” Pennyfeather laughed into her hand, the pink to her cheeks still quite prominent. His frown deepened.

Hermione pressed further. “But why are you needing to go to Hogwarts in the middle of July anyhow? School doesn't start till September after all.”

“That is none of your concern, Miss. Granger, and you would do good to keep your nose out of it.” Draco barked a laugh, sounding so uncomfortably similar to Sirius Black that Severus had to take a moment to personally glare at the boy. Really, it would do both him and his mother a great deal of good if they left Black to his devices. The man was beginning to rub off on them in a very bad way.

Hermione appeared unhappy with his answer, but left it be, pointedly returning to her book with a huff of annoyance. Rolling his eyes, Severus buttered his toast in response, observing how the girl’s shadow curled around her ankles in the mockery of comfort. After the incident, he was slightly wary of the thing, but had made an effort to not be visibly frightened by it. 

Turning back to Draco, who appeared vaguely constipated as he slouched so low in his seat he was practically on the ground, Severus let his mind fall backwards for a moment, his body still eating steadily as he entered his mindscape. It had taken many years of practice to figure out how to enter his mindscape while still doing something in the walking world, and had yet to figure out how to do things that were complex enough that he had yet to imprint them on his muscle memory, such as complex potions or conversation.

Opening his eyes, Severus looked around the familiar living room at Spinner's End, taking in the subtle alterations he had made in his mind so that it was an effective hiding place for all his secrets. While he had originally hated the idea of basing his mindscape around his pitiful home, as he generally despised it and wished to burn the place to the ground, it had been effective fortification against both the dark lord and Dumbledore. On the rare occasion that either would slip past his walls, all they would find was the depressing scene.

Pulling a particular book from the wall, he stepped back and watched as the bookshelf retreated, folding in on itself and revealing a sloping staircase upwards. Climbing the rickety steps, he entered a very different scene, as what was supposed to be a bedroom instead appearing as a great expansful field, flowers blanketing the earth like a carpet of color. Looking down, he found that the forget-me-nots that had been plaguing him for years had been overtaken by a mix of columbine and daisy. He reached down, perturbed, and plucked one of the little daisy buds from the ground, twirling it in his fingers contemplatively. The flower field was meant to quantify his own inner turmoil in a way that he could easily digest, but had the unintended consequence of forcing him to memorize flower language. He had forgotten what columbine signified, but daisy meant innocence and hope.

The twirling bud began to grow in his hand, the color deepening as the petals shifted. He watched, awed, as the daisy transformed itself into a blood red rose as he held it between two fingers, the petals a stark comparison against the white and purple field behind it. He peered closer at it, observing the deep red as the flower continued to twirl between his fingers.

He then dropped it back to the earth, and turned to leave, thoughts swirling with possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly think this chapter was the longest one I've ever written. Like... damn, chill.
> 
> Rosa's slytherin characteristics: Really, I think that Rosa could be quite the little ravenclaw (as well as hermione) but they both have characteristics that make that impossible in the end. You see, Rosa wants to learn, but she is very tactical about it. She wont bother learning things unless she is sure that it will be useful enough to warrant the work required, erego her obsession with learning alphabets. Sure, she enjoys learning languages as well, but learning to write and understand the written word of languages is much easier for her and also has (from her perspective) much more use in a literary world. Languages don't interest her much besides sidithe, which she learned not only to blend in more but also because it was beautiful to hear. For Rosa in particular, knowledge is only power when the output is worth the input. (Also, she is literally being raised by tricksters, the fae are infamous for tricking people (cunning) and making bets, on that alone she belongs in slytherin.)
> 
> Hermione's ambition: My hermione is the canon hermione if she learned about the magical world's injustices before she entered hogwarts and decided that she would do something about it. THAT is her ambition, it also doesn't help that she is being exposed to blood supremacy so early on, and with the dark magic and darker backstory, this hermione is much, MUCH more vengeful and ambitious in her plans to save the world and prove everyone wrong.
> 
> The book Hermione was reading: tbh this was just blatantly plagiarized from the page on wand woods that is currently on wizardingworld.com. Because I feel very little pity towards JKR about stealing her work and wanted to show canon wandlore with that scene, I am still having that just exactly as it was written and did, to be fair, add a few things to add some umph to the entry. However, I do feel that the blatant plagiarism I undertook is very against my AP english student morals, so the link to the page (if you want to check out every single wand wood in canon existence and their properties) is riiiiiiight here: https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/wand-woods
> 
> Draco's cunning: In this story, most notably in the later years, you will find that Draco repeatedly shows the characteristic of wanting to make his own choices. This parallels canon draco in that canon Draco had no choices in what he could do, it was kill or get killed really, he very much was forced into that life, and how he felt about it really isn't important. That's why I want to make my draco extremely repulsed by the concept of not having a choice to do something. If he thinks that someone might try to force him one way, he will veer very aggressively the other direction, which can cause problems in its own right. What caused him problems in canon, will now be so obnoxiously turned the other direction that it still causes problems but in an entirely different way.
> 
> Forget-me-not meaning in flower language: true love memories/ do not forget me. (lol u thought I would put lilies in that field didn't you? No fam this is Subjective Flower Language time)
> 
> Columbine meaning in flower language: lol no spoilers ;) (u can go look it up if u want but this particular flower is pretty subjective and has a lot of different meanings, will you find the one particular meaning that I've decided to use? Who knows!)


	14. A Disregarded Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosa reunites with family she didn't even know she had, finding herself thrown into a world that now made very little sense and seemed to know her far more than she knew herself. As she grapples with these strange revelations, a lurking destiny rounds the bend, revealing itself as a twisted branch of holly.
> 
> Hermione Granger, being of dragon's heart and genius mind, looks the world in the face and spits in it.
> 
> Draco Malfoy decides not to intervene in either avenues, deciding instead to bide his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating for about a week, but this chapter is twice as long as the last chapter, which I had said was the longest chapter I've ever written, so plz consider this my apology (god its like... nearly 20,000k words alone wtf why did I do this, I should have just split it in two chapters but nNooOoo, we can't do things rationally here, apparently.)
> 
> (sigh... I'm tired.)

August came along like a morning breeze, brushing through the faerie realm with nothing but a brief mention of its passing. Rosa Potter, eighth human princess of Elphame and adopted daughter of the High Queen and King, had woken early that morning, intent on getting ready and prepared for the no doubt busy day that would soon follow. Her parents seemed to agree with her decision, as they wandered into her chambers just as she began dressing for the day. Her hair was up, braided loosely to her head with subtle cuffs of copper and little glimmering emerald gems weaves throughout. Despite her insistence to do her hair as lavishly as always, Rosa had been convinced to dress in clothing she now saw as quite plain, a simple brown wool skirt and her favorite shirt. Adjusting the waistband of the skirt, Rosa made sure that her rose-embroidered button-up sat comfortably against her skin where it was tucked into the warm brown wool. She wasn’t quite certain that what she was wearing would be considered appropriate by magical human standards, as she believed that they had a very separate culture from the non-magical humans that she was familiar with.

“-now you shouldn’t have to worry about buying any of the extra things on this list, though it appears that a cauldron will be tiresome for us to replicate here. I suppose that will be a necessity then.” Fin stood to her left, his eyes covered with a thick band of fabric to respect her privacy, though he still managed to read off of the parchment sent with her acceptance letter anyway. “The wand will also be necessary to get, as well as the uniform, and I'm sure there is someplace for you to buy such an ensemble, so I would recommend asking any nice-looking humans to help you.”

Rosa delicately inserted copper earrings into her earlobes, playing with the little teardrop emeralds that dangled off of the cuffs as she thought about all that her father was saying. “The books are necessary too, I'm sure.” She would have rathered not getting human books, as the mortal parchment still gave her strange feelings, and having an entire arsenal of dead plant matter seemed like a nightmare to deal with. 

“I'm afraid so.” Fin seemed just as bothered by the prospect as she was, though it was hard to tell with the cloth wrapped around his eyes. Blinking for a moment, she wondered why he was still wearing it as she adjusted the leather bracelet around her wrist.

“Oh! I'm finished, you can take that off if you’d like.” Rosa pressed her hands down the front of her skirt one final time, watching as the pleats swished around her ankles. Truthfully, Rosa was very nervous about going back to the human realm after her short stint there only a month or so prior. It was such a strange place to her now-completely foreign after so many years-and she would be completely out of her depth when traversing the magical side of it.

“You'll do just fine, little rose.” Una, as always, seemed to almost read her mind, rising from where she sat lounging across a cabinet not three feet away. The woman stood in front of her, pulling Rosa’s necklace from where it had slipped into the collar of her shirt. “Now come along, let's get you into the portal. It should spit you out right in the middle of the goblin colony, and I'm sure they would be able to help you settle.” Her necklace was supposed to reveal her status in Elphame, and had done her a great deal of nonsense whenever shopping on her own, as everyone had the rather annoying habit of bowing in respect as she passed when it was proudly on display. Rosa had first wanted to hide it because of that, but Una had insisted that Rosa was very worthy of the respect, and that nothing so silly as embarrassment should make her hide. It had taken quite a few long walks through crowded marketplaces, but now she could easily waltz through crowds of curious and respectful fae, no issue.

Nodding, Rosa let herself be led out of her room and towards the ring room, traversing through familiar halls and passing by familiar faces. She remembered very few instances of which she had to be in the room, as the fairy rings held within it all spit out to either different places in the far reaches of the fae realm or to specific places in the mortal realm-mostly right in the middle of important magical allies-and she had no particular need to go that far from home… until now, at least. The goblins were one such ally of the fae, having been born from one of the smaller variants of earth fae-ones that lived far enough inside of the earth that they could mine precious resources, but not far enough to bathe in rivers of magma as the daemons did.

The ring room itself was quite self explanatory-the entire floor, walls, and ceiling being made up of little rings of faintly glowing light, all ready to be used for either mischievous or diplomatic purposes. Upon entering the massive room, Rosa was led straight towards one of the newer rings, one that was quite far from the entrance, which meant that it was likely created in the past few thousand years or so. Stepping up to the faintly glowing ring, she waited as it began to brighten and pulse.

“Now, be sure to come back in at _least_ two hours, though you should take as long as you need. Please be back soon though, as I'll be sure to start worrying if you stay for longer than a day. In fact, do design to be back in time for supper.” Una kissed her gently on the top of her head, whispering gentle words of excitement and pride. Hugging the woman back quickly, she turned and gave Fin another similar hug, before letting go and jumping right through the glowing ring.

Gravity felt very confused for a moment, as if it wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, before she found herself flying back up into the air again, righting herself easily enough in midair and touching back down onto smooth rock. There was something akin to a shocked gasp to her left, and a _very_ sharp looking spear was practically _yanked_ away from where it had been pointed towards her, the guard appearing almost sheepish before running off, disappearing quickly through a side door. She stood, very confused for a moment, before looking about the room with curiosity.

She appeared to be underground, great walls of exposed rock and uncut crystal framing the circular room. The ceiling sloped upwards into something of a dome, revealing the occasional uncut gem or gold vein peaking through the nonuniform surface. The floor in which the fairy ring sat appeared to be even older than the surrounding walls, smoothed to a point that it was quite clear small feet had walked through that room every day for thousands of years, long since having worn the rock flat. What was better, was that she could actually _feel_ the walls, faintly of course, but the magic was still there, pulsing quietly as if the stone had been asleep for all of eternity. It certainly wasn’t home, but it also wasn’t the horribly dead feeling that she had gotten in that clearing outside Privet Drive.

Voices rose up from a nearby hall, the familiar throat scratching of Gobbledegook filtering through the air to her ears. As the voices neared, Rosa quietly pat herself down a second time, hoping that she was presentable enough to appease the aggressive creatures. 

“You’ll do just fine, poppet.” Thimble appeared from the folds of her skirt, Rhiannon following quickly after, the two having apparently decided to join her. She huffed, snatching both of them out of the air and regarding their guilty expressions with her own rather stern one.

“Are you two allowed to be here?”

Rhiannon scoffed, wings fluttering in an attempt to free herself from the bonds. “The queen requested that we stay by your side till the very end of your days, so you will be very unlikely to get rid of us for something as measly as a shopping trip.”

Rosa was about to answer, before a throaty voice spoke up from behind her. _“Faerie, what is your business within the walls of Gringotts.”_ Turning, Rosa got a good look at the small squadron of goblins, finding that they all appeared about ready for war. Releasing her friends, she raised her left arm, bending it at the elbow to create a ninety degree angle and raising her pointer and ring finger, the other three fingers curled tightly together so that could see her sign of peace clearly.

 _“Good morning, I wish to receive passage through your caverns and into the magical human marketplace. Elphame wishes no harm on your people.”_ The goblin who had spoken crept forward slowly, raising his arm in similar greeting. He stopped however, nearly three feet from her, peering at her face with something akin to familirarity. _Does he recognize me somehow?_ She let her arm fall, watching as his gaze followed from her hair to her forehead, creeping down her face as if he was studying her scar. For a moment, all was still, before the unnamed goblin sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening with shock.

“Rosa Potter…” He spoke in clear english, arm also lowering as he made a fast motion towards the squadron behind him. The other goblins began muttering and whispering to each other in gobbledegook as they stepped down, the occasional word of ‘impossible’ and ‘makes sense’ finding their way to her ears. She blinked, finding herself quite surprised that he knew her name, as they had not sent word of her arrival prior, but nodding slowly in confirmation.

“That is my name, yes, how did you know it?”

The muttering rose in volume, and the goblin before her appeared perturbed for a moment before making another fast motion towards one of the guards. _“Call for Ironclaw, the Potters are his responsibility.”_ Turning back to her, he smiled without teeth, something that she recognized as a display of both respect and submission. “Princess of Elphame, I believe the Goblin Nation can answer many questions you have, and quite a few that you have never thought to ask. Please, follow me.”

Smiling in a similar fashion, Rosa walked along with the goblin, who introduced himself as Ragnuk, the head of the goblin army. “That is quite impressive Ragnuk, I had thought that the goblin army had three Generals. I suppose the nation must have gotten smaller since fae last visited?” Ragnuk shook his head, waving away more armored goblins as they made their way towards the surface.

“Quite the opposite, the goblin nation that the fae are familiar with has long since split into factions. Gringotts, and the caverns below it that we traverse through now, are the main base of the largest clan, the Uthor Clan, which is made up of nearly eight thousand goblins, and growing by the day.” Rosa made an impressed noise, remembering from her lessons that the goblin nation had been only about ten thousand strong when last spoken to in any true capacity. If the largest clan was just two thousand short of that, then it was likely that the species had grown quite a bit in eight hundred years.

“May I ask how you recognized me? I’ve never been to the magical human world before, so I was quite surprised.” Ragnuk’s face contorted for a moment, as if he was contemplating what to say, before he nodded carefully.

“Yes, I suppose you would be confused, living in the muggle world for such a long time. I assure you Princess, we can explain everything in due time, but your accounts manager must be present.” Just as he finished speaking, they turned a corner and came upon a very flustered goblin, who was wearing a smart waistcoat instead of the elaborate steel armor of the guards, and was whispering in hushed conversation with another, similarly clothed goblin.

“Ironclaw.” The goblin now dubbed Ironclaw turned to them, taking a quick look at Rosa before going very pale, rushing over and speaking in quick, nervous sentences.

“Heiress Potter, we have so very much to discuss, please follow me.” Rhiannon tittered at the blatant disrespect, while Rosa was mostly confused. Since when was she the heiress to anything? Ragnuk and Ironclaw spoke in hushed whispers as they led her down the hall, the quiet conversation punctuated with occasional shocked gasps and lamenting groans. Rosa continued to glance around the bank, finally realizing just what it was when they passed by a female goblin counting glittering golden coins. She supposed it made a great deal of sense, as goblins had always been particularly brilliant mathematicians, so banking was likely an easy pastime for the warrior race. Who’s money were they counting though? Goblins and magical humans were far from standing on common footing, if the countless wars Fin made her memorize said anything.

“Ragnuk, when was the last war you partook with the magical humans? I only ask because they are the only species of magical creature that uses currency to my knowledge.” The goblin seemed surprised by her question, but answered it nonetheless, lagging behind Ironclaw somewhat so that they could converse side by side. “Well, the wars stopped during the fifteenth century, due to a particular battle that was won decidedly by the wizards. However, we have had a great deal of rebellions following after that, all leading up to the eighteenth century. There has been relatively strained peace since then, though many clans wish to have another rebelion-likely because they are bored.” 

Rosa frowned, finding the answer severely lacking in depth and telling her almost nothing of value. “Do you perhaps have any texts that would go into greater depth on the topic? I would love to take something home for my mother to read.” Ragnuk nodded, motioning at one of the guards and giving the order to go get copies of historical texts. Rosa knew that her mother would rather enjoy bringing the goblins back to Elphame to be with their ancestors, but had been sure that they would not accept such a proposition. However, if they were feeling particularly stifled in the mortal realm, it might be a topic of interest for them.

_A conversation for another day, I'm sure._

“Here we are, Princess.” After a great deal of stairs and even more _stares,_ they had made it to a pleasant enough little office, which was decorated with all manner of warm reds and lovely little weapons. She studied a particularly beautiful cleaver mounted on the wall as Ironclaw busied himself with various amounts of paperwork, flipping through more sheets of dead trees and occasionally calling for another goblin to bring him a particular file. Rosa found the office pleasant in a way that _almost_ reminded her of home, with every surface glittering with faint magic and warmth. The furniture was made of dead wood though, which made her still quite uncomfortable, as anything made of wood in Elphame was still very much alive and growing, like how her dresser was merely a tree molded into a dresser, and still lived and breathed and held its own, unique, magic.

Still, she didn’t want to be rude to such pleasant creatures, who had been very polite so far and very welcoming, so she cautiously sat down on the plush chair in front of the mahogany desk, watching as Ironclaw went about gathering up all her files.

“Now, heiress Potter, you are the holder of a great fortune, as well as a seat on the wizengamot.” She blinked, completely unfamiliar with the term. 

“The… the what?” Sighing, he reached for another parchment, holding it out for her to take. “The wizengamot is a lawmaking body, one that that is made up of the lords and ladies of the British Isles. Your godfather and magical guardian, Lord Sirius Black, is also on the wizengamot, and will be incharge of teaching you all that you need to know before you take up your ladyship. You are also his heir, so once he decides to step down from the post, you will also be taking up the Black ladyship.”

The name Sirius Black felt horribly familiar to her, and Rosa felt a great need to speak with the man for some particular reason. Setting the paper aside to read later, she took the next thing handed to her, which was an ornate ring box, embellished with red silk and gold trim. “Held inside of this is the heir ring for the Potter family, which will prove who you are to everyone you meet. Inside this-” he then handed her another, darker box, which was embellished with silver and had an ornate family crest on the lid. “-is the Black heir ring. Please put the Potter one on your right ring finger, and the Black ring on your right pointer. This will show which family you come from bloodwise, and which you do not.”

She opened the Potter ring box first, finding a lovely little ring propped up on a velvet cushion. It was simple, just a band of gold inlaid with tiny little rubies going around the entire thing, and she felt that it would fit rather wonderfully with the roses she occasionally wore in her hair. She happily put it on the correct finger, feeling a small tug and a gentle buzzing before it tightened and stuck firmly to her finger. Somehow, Rosa knew that it would not be possible to remove until it was time for her to don the ladyship. Pursing her lips, she moved onto the darker box. Upon opening it however, she saw dark, almost green magic swirl up and latch onto her hand. The magic felt like what dark chocolate tasted like, deep and rich and bitter. She hummed curiously, watching as the ring practically _jumped_ onto her pointer finger, the black-green magic swirling around in the air before slipping back into the ring, revealing a black obsidian band fashioned around an ornate family crest identical to the one on the box. Similarly to the Potter ring, it also felt permanently stuck to her finger, and she gave it a testing tug before letting her hand fall limp.

Rosa sat and stared at the two rings for a moment, contemplating the magic and how eager it had been-how the magic felt almost _desperate_ to be with her-and decided quickly on what must be done. Looking up at Ragnuk, she asked very gently if there was some way to contact the mysterious Lord Black, and if so, was it possible to have him join them in discussing what they needed to tell her.

* * *

“Draco, it's time to leave!”

Narcissa’s voice rang out through the foyer, the stained glass refracting down and bathing her in colorful light. Lucius had never expected that the obnoxiously ornate ceiling could be anything but gaudy and a waste of money, but looking at his wife in that moment, he was sure it was the greatest purchase he had ever made.

“You look stunning my love.” She pursed her lips in a carefully amused mockery of a smile, winking over Hermione’s head as she adjusted the bow tying the girl’s hair back from her face.

“Do I now? What do you think of that Hermione? Do I look stunning?” Looking down to the little girl, Narcissa’s smile widened as Hermione began systematically listing off all her best features. Rolling his eyes, Lucius looked towards the stairs, wondering how long it would take Draco to get bored of procrastinating. For someone who had been so unbelievably excited for the school shopping, his son seemed to rather despise the aspect of going out in public that such an endeavor required. Or perhaps he just didn’t enjoy how he was forced to slick back that near-unmanageable mane of his.

“-of course, Lord Malfoy could have been talking about the ceiling, which is reflecting light back down on you rather prettily, but it is hard to say.” Fast footfalls rounded the bend, and Draco came screaming around the corner, no doubt out of breath from running down eight flights of stairs in a rush. Lucius reached out and combed over the stray hairs that had slipped from their gel confines, wondering if his heir would even bother with presentation at Hogwarts. It was doubtful, but there was no harm in dreaming.

“Is everyone ready?” Narcissa was a flurry of movement, double and triple checking that both children were combed and brushed and dressed to perfection, adjusting Draco’s ornate cloak clasp for seemingly the eight time before the boy finally refused to put up with it anymore, slapping at her and and groaning pittifully. Lucius watched it all with a small smile, observing how the small group moved like a chaotically functioning unit.

“Mum. Hey mum! We have to wait for Uncle Sirius, we can't leave yet.” Draco danced out of the woman’s grasp, purposely messing up his hair enough that a few strands fell into his eyes.

“Sirius will be meeting us at the Leaky Cauldron love, so do take care to not whine till then.” Shepherding the children out the door, Narcissa turned to look at him, a pointed look on her face. Dutifully, Lucius notified their wards of their departure, catching up to the group quickly enough and grasping hold of Draco’s hand as he yanked at his mother’s, who then let go with an annoyed sigh. “Let us make this trip quick children, I have Severus coming over for tea at half past two.” 

Hermione was then grasped gently by Narcissa, and the moment they passed over the wards, both parents apparated in unison. His world swirled for a moment, the testingly hot sunlight shifting before everything cleared and he was standing in the apparition point of Diagon Alley, the waves of shoppers swimming past as he instinctively moved out of the way for the next person. 

Narcissa’s hand found his, and Draco tugged uselessly as he held firm with the other, guiding his family through the throes of faceless people on a straight track towards the Leaky Cauldron. On a good day, he would design not to step foot in such an establishment, but Sirius seemed to have a particular fondness for the place, so Lucius was occasionally forced to take the plunge and enter it when there was a particular need for Black’s presence on outings. However, upon entering the pub, Lucius found that the man was nowhere to be seen, which was odd as he always showed up at least an hour early to drink himself tipsy.

Leaving Narcissa to the excited and energetic children, Lucius walked up to the bar and motioned over the bartender, who had been speaking with a burly man he recognized as the Hogwarts groundskeeper. Squinting at Hagrid, Lucius noticed how he clutched a small package to his chest. Odd.

Turning back to the bartender, Lucius attempted not to grimace at the man’s ratty clothing and lack of general cleanliness. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but do you happen to know where Sirius Black has run off to? He was supposed to meet us here.” The man nodded, pointing towards an abandoned glass of whiskey that sat partially drunk not two chairs away.

“Ol’ Black got a messenger from Gringotts and just about sprinted outta his seat. I’d say he’s in trouble of some kind, the poor chap.” Lucius nodded slowly, there was no physical way for Sirius to ever run out of money, even if he managed to do something unbelievably stupid and expensive, so it was doubtful that he was in monetary trouble of any kind. Thanking the man for his time, Lucius quickly returned to Narcissa, whispering what had been said into her ear as Hermione very obviously tried to listen in. His wife huffed, making a show of being annoyed and unperturbed, though he could tell that there was a great deal of worry behind her eyes.

“Well, if he has an emergency to deal with, we can go about shopping on our own, yes?” He nodded amicably, and the group of four left the pub, traveling first to get the childrens' books. Hermione, naturally, was quite uninterested in what the books for her year had to offer, and ran about the shop in search of various other reading material while Draco leafed through a 1897 print of Quidditch Through the Ages. Lucius rolled his eyes at the two, paying for two sets of the first year book bundle and shrinking both, placing them into his robe pocket before wandering off to find where his charge had snuck off to. If he didn’t search for her soon, it was wholly likely that she would find a place to melt into the shadows, and then they would be unable to find her until she wished to leave. 

Luckily though, he managed to find her wedged between the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms sections, piling book upon book into an ever-increasing pile of potential reading material. Sighing, he took the first book from the pile and read the cover, finding that the girl had decided that a fifth year charms school book was perfectly acceptable reading material for a witch who had yet to even buy a wand.

“Hermione… please designate to not attempt to buy anything meant for those above a second year skill level. Even _you_ need to have some sort of experience with a wand before being able to properly understand the inter-complexities of advanced magic.” Puting the book back onto the shelf, Lucius dillegenly removed all the overly advanced books from the basket while the little girl tried very amicably not to whine.

“But Lord Malfoy-”

“None of that, you will have plenty of time to learn magic over the next seven years. Now, if you truly need more books to read, I would be happy to pick out a few political theory books for you, if you feel so inclined to read above your age level that is.” He had long since realized that the girl would go into politics, she was practically born for such a thing. She was driven, ambitious, and wanted to change the world, traits that would make a phenomenal ‘people’s politician’. Backed by a respectable family like the Malfoys as well… well, Lucius could hardly pass such an opportunity by.

They spent another ten minutes carding through stuffy old political books that would put a normal child-or adult-to sleep, stacking tomes nearly two inches thick into the basket. Once all was said and done, and the books had been paid for and then shrunk into his pocket, Lucius felt that he had spent an appropriately absurd amount of money on books and felt the children would have a sufficient amount of reading material for the year.

“We already have caldrons, phials, telescopes, and that lovely set of matching brass scales that Severus sent last month, so all that is left is the uniforms and wands.” Narcissa was crossing off things on her list with uniform, fast strokes of her quill, Hermione standing on her right with her button nose already stuck firmly into one of her new books. Draco was drooling over the new Nimbus broom, yanking at Lucius’ arm and pointing with a pleading expression.

“You wont need a broom at Hogwarts for your first year Draconis, you can have the broom for christmas.” As his wife spoke, Lucius began to move them along to Madam Malkins, passing by a large fellow carrying several packages in his arms as he did, pushing the two children up the steps and into the shop. Narcissa grasped his arm, and for a moment they shared a heavy look. Her worried gaze returned, and he contemplated all that could possibly be wrong with his wife’s cousin. Sighing slightly, he looked down at the pair of children, mainly addressing Draco as he began to list out all that they were expected to accomplish in the store.

“Now, I need to go to Gringotts to find Sirius and make sure he has not been arrested for a second time, and your mother needs to pick up her dress for the Samhain galla, so the both of you must stay here until either I or your mother return. Do you understand?” Both nodded quickly, taking the separate pouches of galleons Narcissa handed to them. “Be sure to buy whatever you like along with your uniforms, but do _not_ go over the amount that you are given. I would personally recommend getting a wand holster.” Straightening out, he shared another heavy look with his wife before turning the opposite direction, making his way towards the infamously sloping white building several blocks away and hoping that he was not about to walk into a crime scene.

* * *

**Thirty Minutes Prior:**

Sirius had been mostly confused when the goblin approached him from where he sat at the bar, about to quention what it was doing out of the bank, but quickly grew rather uneasy as it demanded that he follow it back to Gringotts. However, Sirius was hardly a fool or an idiot, and tamped down his nerves with one last swig from his whiskey. There was nothing that he could think of that would warrant one of the Gringotts employees to specifically hunt him down, especially since he had been keeping a rather good track of his finances and was sure that his accounts were all doing very well. That being said, there was really no telling just how far the goblins were willing to go if their gold was on the line, so all he could really do was follow the small creature up the crooked steps of the bank and hope he wasn’t about to be handcuffed to an interrogation chair.

Luckily, all that happened upon his entrance was a few curious glances from other bank goers and a sneer from the goblin he had sassed a week prior for poor service. He stuck out his tongue in response, turning a corner as the still nameless goblin led him along through the bank. 

“Ironclaw’s office is the third door to your right.” And with that, his guide was gone, and Sirius was forced to make his way down the ancient hallways, scratching his head over the entire situation. Sure, goblins were rather blunt, but the entire lot seemed rather out of sorts today. Maybe there was a break in, or perhaps some sort of dispute? Either way, it was a relief that he was apparently being called on Ironclaw’s request, as that meant that the only issue was with the Potter accounts, something that he had yet to touch once he was given control over them two years prior.

Reaching what he hoped was the correct door, Sirius knocked twice and waited, hearing quiet voices from inside. The door creaked open, and a warrior goblin in full regalia stepped out, regarding him with hard eyes. “Lord Black, we have an ambassador from an allied nation that wishes to speak with you.” 

His eyes bulged, and for a moment all Sirius could do was sputter, completely taken aback by the blunt and rather random proclamation. “An-I beg your pardon, a _what?_ Why on earth am I being brought in for goblin disputes? Which nation?”

The goblin grinned, teeth shining with malice. “That is not for me to say, Lord Black. Now, _get in.”_

Stumbling forward, Sirius hurriedly pat himself down as he was shoved through the door, attempting to gain some semblance of professionality as he was, apparently, forced into an important international meeting. However, all whirling thoughts of politics left his mind when he laid eyes on the two creatures inside the office. One was Ironclaw of course, who he still remembered vaguely from his visit two years prior to hear the wills. The goblin was sitting behind a desk shuffling through various papers, and hadn’t looked up to his entrance. The second however, was a little girl. A very, _very_ familiar-looking little girl.

He was taken aback by how perfectly she seemed to embody her parents. She was a perfect amalgamation of the two, with Lily’s heart shaped face decorated with a smattering of freckles, framed with shockingly well behaved raven black hair, which was done in a complicated updo of braids and little cuffs of metal. Expensive earrings of emerald clung to her ears, glittering the very same shade as her eyes. She appeared healthy-with a rosey shade to her plump cheeks, and was humming quietly under her breath. Her clothing was all very well tailored and obviously quite expensive, and fit in a way that made him believe that they were worn often enough. Her feet were bare, her legs kicking as she sat elegantly in the chair.

For a moment, Sirius wasn’t quite sure he had not died and gone off to the afterlife-he wasn’t quite sure that this was even real-not until she turned to look at him and revealed a horribly familiar, if faded, scar cutting an indented gash through her otherwise perfect face. Rosa. It was Rosa, without a single doubt.

Sirius choked a sob, stumbling into the room and collapsing at her feet, taking both of her little hands into his own. 

“Rosa-little darling Rosa, oh sweetheart it's really _you.”_

For several long, arduous moments, all he could do was cry and hold tightly to her hands, his larger fingers running over the calluses on her palms, trying to discern if this was a dream or she was really, truly, sitting right there in front of him. She was quiet, her legs no longer kicking and gentle humming having stopped. He didn’t dare look up to see her no doubt confused or even scared face-she couldn’t possibly remember him, and certainly didn’t know how long he had looked for her. She wouldn’t understand how the long days and longer nights all lead him nowhere, and now Sirius felt that the world was caving in on him, the sudden fact that she was right there, existing just as all people do, that sent him into a blubbering frenzy of quiet, tearful apologies and near-unintelligible declarations of familial love.

Her fingers closed around his own, gentle and sure and so incredibly comforting that he immediately quieted, and she began humming once more-the noise soft and melodious. Sirius felt calmed near instantaneously, the grief and worry and pure _shock_ melting away to reveal a gentle, relaxing warmth. Relaxing his shoulders, Sirius took a deep breath of air and sighed, looking up to his goddaughter’s face, finding an amalgamation of James and Lily in every part of her, from the mischievous gleam of James behind eyes that were so very clearly Lily, and hair that seemed to have defied fate and was behaving to their mistress’ orders, little pieces of bouncy, silky curls framing her face gently-not a strand of messy Potter hair in sight. The humming tapered off, and Rosa tilted her head, squinting at his face as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“You look very familiar, Mr. Black.”

He choked out a laugh, rubbing the tears from his eyes as a smile threatened to split his face in two. “I want none of that ’Mr’ business from you, little fawn. Call me Padfoot or nothing at all.” She laughed, the sound reminding him of the tinkling bells that decorated the Potter home on yule.  
“You know, my mum calls me little rose, which I think suits me a tad bit better than fawn. If you’d also like to call me something other than my name, that would be lovely.” The smile slowly fell from his face, replaced with confusion as he looked at her cautiously.

“Rosa, what do you mean by your mum?”

“Lord Black.” a voice from the door interrupted the unplanned reunion, and Sirius nearly cracked his neck turning to look at the warrior goblin who had let him into the room. “We have much to discuss. Please, take a seat.”

* * *

“What do you reckon, chartreuse or obsidian?” 

Draco held up two cloaks for her to view, one was a yellowish-green that reminded her of Lord Malfoy’s favorite french liquor of a similar name. The other, however, was so black that she could barely make out the fabric itself, seeing only a vaguely cloak-like shape of darkness held pooled in her friend’s hands. Truthfully, Hermione couldn’t care less about the color of her cloak, as long as it fit and was warm she would bloody wear it.

“Why not get both?” However, Draco very clearly had _opinions_ on such things, so she had unwittingly ended up knowing quite a bit about the most stylish colors of the current season as well as possibly every fabric imaginable and all of their properties. That wasn’t to say she could be stylish by any means, as she was never quite one for fashion and looking objectively ‘good’, though she could certainly understand that attractiveness played quite the role in high society.

“I can’t get both, if I did I wouldn’t have enough money for a new belt, and father was clear about this being a lesson in finances, I certainly can't ask for more once mother returns.” Hermione got a particular gleam to her eye, watching as Draco hemmed and hawed over the two cloaks. Sure, Lord Malfoy had been particular about both of them only spending their share of coin, but who was to say she couldn’t bend the rules a smidge for her own benefit.

“Well… I suppose I could lend you money, like an informal loan, and you could pay me back later? And you will be susceptible to interest of course-but only so that your parents know we are simply recreating real life finances and such.” Draco seemed to consider it, eying the wand holster that Hermione had already bought, running the numbers and realizing that she had quite a bit of money left over to do with as she wished. Of course, he was certainly aware that she was trying to play him, but Draco’s mind functioned very strictly on instant gratification instead of Hermione’s far more delayed mindset, so the both of them could be sure he would take the ‘loan’ happily.

Sure enough, he folded both cloaks over themselves and held out a hand. “Five percent interest.”

“Fifteen.”

“Bah! Ten.”

“Deal.”

Shaking his hand with a smug smile, Hermione handed him the twenty gallions for his second cloak and succumbed with the knowledge that the boy would no doubt forget to pay her until she mentioned it again, which would be far, far into the future, if Hermione had anything to say about it.

Turning, the girl looked out the window just in time to see Lady Malfoy walk up the steps, her arms free and several packages floating behind her. Meeting the woman at the door, Hermione held up the slip proving that she had been measured for a uniform and then showed off her new wand holster, which was designed to sling around her hip like a belt, with the uniformly sized holster to hang along her right hip.

“Oh that's lovely Hermione, I had a similar one when I was your age, though it was stained white instead of that black-which truly suits you much better.” Lady Malfoy floated the slip and holster into a nearby bag, which appeared to be holding a variety of small boxes-no doubt cosmetics or jewelry or something similar. “Now, where has my son run off to?”

“He’s buying his things. I'm sure he’ll only be a moment, do you know if Lord Black is in trouble with the goblins or not?” Narcissa shook her head, watching as Draco came over, his winnings piled high in pale arms. Sighing, she flicked her wand, and it all joined the precession behind her.

“I'm afraid that anything with Sirius is doomed to be trouble in one way or another. I'm sure he will be just fine though.” Fixing Draco’s hair, which had gotten all messed up and imperfect again-likely from trying on too many hooded cloaks, she continued on. “Either way, my husband is quite capable of getting that man out of all sorts of trouble, so don’t worry yourself over it, Hermione dear. Now, let's go get your wands, hm?”

Draco practically sprinted out of the door, Hermione not too far behind. She had been excited to get a wand ever since she was told of their existence, and felt that this was the very start of her journey of becoming a real, honest to god witch! Sure, she could read all about magic and watch the adults use it, and she could make potions with Draco any day of the week, but that was all surface level-she could hardly consider herself a witch just by living around magic, she had to actually use it!

Linking arms with Draco, the two of them ran to Ollivanders, knowing the way by heart after sneaking off from family outings to peer into the window so often. Narcissa had fallen back behind them, seeming to trust that they knew the way, and no doubt wanting to window shop some more. Racing down the cobbled walk, the two stopped on occasion and only briefly if one of them managed to peer in through a window and see something interesting, like a particularly interesting book or new, fancy cauldron.

“I don't understand why they bother making things out of crystal like that. Is it for aesthetic purposes or does it hold real properties that make them more than just fancy desk ornaments?” The duo had stopped in front of Potage’s Cauldron Shop, Draco having noticed a cauldron carved of clear crystal and instantly taking a liking to it. Hermione didn’t personally understand the reasoning, as crystals were formed through heat, so the cauldron would always be in danger of crystallizing further on both the base and interior, something that would easily ruin the entire thing and turn it unusable.

Draco however, apparently knew the answer. “Well it's for cold brewing, and is quite popular in the western United States, as the largest amount of crystal deposits in the world are situated around California. Cold brewing is necessary for quite a few potions in the states, though I don't know specifics.”

Hermione nodded slowly, pushing him along past the glittering cauldron and the extra block to Ollivanders. Stepping into the store, all of the hubalub of the outside world diminished near-instantly, nothing but their soft footfalls echoing through the dusty place. She could merely stare wide eyes around the crowded room, looking at all the wand boxes stacked as high as the ceiling, all very precariously balanced and no doubt fortified with magic.

“Well, isn’t this cheery, eh Mione?” Draco was eying a particularly ornate wand resting in a red silk pillow… or all the dust that covered it.

“No no, that wand wouldn’t suit anyone I’m afraid, the core is broken to bits.” The gentle, smooth voice crept up on them from the shadows, and an old man that could only be Ollivander himself came hobbling out from the back. Hermione pretended that she hadn’t just about jumped out of her skin, smiling politely at the old man as Draco very blatantly cursed in surprise. Elbowing the boy, she rested her hands on the tall front desk, perring over it with curiosity.

“So sorry, so sorry. I tend to have a rather nasty habit of frightening children.” Ollivander pottered around for a moment, clearly looking for something as he mumbled different types of woods to himself. Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘mad old coot’ under his breath, and received another elbow to the ribs for his troubles.

“That's quite alright sir, we’re here to purchase our first wands you see.” Ollivander shouted triumphantly, pulling an old measuring tape from a stack of discarded wand boxes.

“Oh yes yes of course, off to hogwarts soon I'd say? Well who’s going first?” Hermione quickly volunteered herself, stepping up expectantly. “Good good… yes, well, which is your wand arm then, dear?”

“My right, sir.” Holding out the aforementioned arm, she watched with growing excitement as the enchanted measuring tape measured out her arm and wrist size, moving on to her fingers and then fingernails before the man stopped it.

“Pesky little thing eh? I accidentally enchanted it to be rather enthusiastic, sad to say I’ve grown rather fond now despite the annoyances. Now let's see here…” Wandering off to the back of the store, Ollivander moved out of view as the tinkling of a bell allerted the two children to the arrival of their guardian. Narcissa held the door open for her conga line of parcels, and immediately settled down on a chair, slowly sorting through and shrinking all of them so that she would be able to carry it all along in one bag. As she did that, Draco continued through the shop, occasionally poking at wands and seeing if they did anything to little avail. 

“Now then-” Ollivander very suddenly appeared again, causing her to jump and let out a startled breath. Held tightly in his arms were a great variety of boxes of different shapes and sizes, all with little runes written into the side-no doubt saying something of the contents of each box. Setting them all clumsily down on the front desk, he grabbed one at random and opened it up, admiring the wood’s shine before holding it out to her. “Apple and phoenix feather, thirteen inches and quite swishy.”

Hermione remembered very suddenly from her research that apple wood reacted quite terribly with dark magic, and yanked back her hand as if burned. “May I try another? So sorry, I just don’t feel particularly right with it.” 

The old man nodded sagely, setting the wand back in the box. “Of course my dear. Remember, it is the wand that chooses the witch, but if the witch feels that the wand is wrong, it most certainly will _not_ be the right fit.” She took the nugget of knowledge greedily, listening intently as he continued. “There is a certain science to wand making you see, but the process of being chosen by a wand is a far more finicky, unpredictable process, and often shows not only how a magical person may be, but how their _magic_ may be. If you do not like the apple or the phoenix feather, then that is certainly not something for you.”

He set the box away from the rest of the pile, before picking through a few equally dusty boxes before pulling out a rather worn one and taking the wand from it. “Hawthorn and unicorn tail, ten inches, springy.”

Reaching out, Hermione felt an immediate revolt, and the wand practically _jumped_ from her hands. That was unsurprising to her, hawthorn oftentimes liked people with a conflicted nature, of which she certainly did _not_ have. Ollivander hummed, setting the wand away and picking a few others out of the pile, setting them with the two other rejects as he did. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she leaned over the counter curiously.

“Are you guessing my wand based on the previous failures? That’s ingenious!” Her exclamation slipped out before she could consider its rudeness, and before the man could reply she slapped a hand over her offending mouth in shock. “-oh I’m so terribly sorry, that was very rude of me-” “Say nothing of it my dear, you are actually quite right. Tell me, are you aware of the intricate laws that govern magical wood?”

She busied her lip, watching as he sorted a few specific wands into a pile, no doubt for her to try next. “I know that each wand wood and core has a preference towards specific types of people and magic, and I’ve read a book that holds a number of your notes on the topic.” 

Ollivander appeared impressed, studying her with a proud eye. “Well now, what can you say about yourself from the past two attempts?”

She realized very quickly that he was testing her, and immediately jumped to the ready. “Well, hawthorn is typically inclined towards people with conflicting emotions or those that have a difficult decision on the horizon, and is suited for a person adept in healing magic. Apple however, is best suited for someone with high aims, and mixes horribly with dark magic, making it a very rare type of wood.”

Ollivander nodded, moving another few wands from the first pile into the rejects. “Very good… very good yes, you are quite correct. Now, I think that quite a few of these wands would suit you quite well, would you like to try another?” Nodding, Hermione began the long process of finding a wand, going through a variety of wands that felt somewhat right, but not quite. Ollivander insisted that it was really quite difficult to find a perfect fit if you were someone of a complicated character, and that there was no harm in having an almost perfect wand. However, Hermione was insistent, and they went through several dozens before she found one that truly resonated.

“Interesting… very interesting Miss. Granger. Elm wood and dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches and quite stiff. A very stern if elegant combination.”

“Elm you say?” Narcissa piped up from the window seat, standing and moving over to where they stood. “Fascinating.”

Hermione beamed in pride, feeling the inkling of smugness creeping through and festering. Elm wood was believed (quite aggressively) in higher circles to be ‘only’ for pure-bloods, as many believed that muggleborns or half-bloods would be incapable of producing magic with a wand of that wood. “Fascinating indeed Mrs. Malfoy, but quite fitting. Elm wood prefers someone with a certain presence and dignity. I'm sure you will do well with it, Miss. Granger.”

Hermione still felt smug and giddy as she sat down in the chair next to Narcissa, watching as Draco began the process of finding his own wand. Unable to help herself, she looked down to the wand again, studying the elegantly and uniformly cut lines that criss-crossed from base to tip, runes meaning ‘power’ and ‘diligence’ carved expertly into the handle. It was a light, pleasant shade of yellowish-brown, and was finished at the handle with a clear, sparkling gem, “for focus” Ollivander had said upon her questioning, saying that the dragon the heartstring had been taken from had been quite rambunctious, and he had hoped to negate that by pairing it with a calming stone. 

She adored her wand, the simple elegance and clear focus onto practicality made her feel even more that she was destined for it. Clutching it to her chest tightly, Hermione watched as a wand exploded in Draco’s grip, sending soot into his face with a loud _bang._

* * *

“You mean to tell me that Rosa has been living in a _separate dimension_ for two bloody years?” 

The girl in question kicked her legs, watching her supposed godfather attempt to break his jaw by opening it too wide. It had been quite lovely to meet him, as she has a long forgotten fondness for the name Padfoot, and was without a single doubt that he knew her as a baby and clearly cared a great deal for her. However, he had not been taking the explanation of her whereabouts over the past two years very well it seemed, as he was rather stuck on the ‘different realm’ part of it. Really though, it had taken him all of two seconds to accept that previously undocumented creatures like fairies existed and had an entire society separate of humans, only needing to take a single look at Rhiannon and Thimble before moving on with the conversation. However, he was seemingly flabbergasted by the prospect of that society existing in a separate plane of existence, and was fighting against accepting it rather heavily.

“That is the conclusion we have reached, yes, though the girl herself has yet to confirm or deny anything, as she wished to speak with you first.” Ragnok appeared rather tired of Sirius’ nonsense as well, having taken off his heavy armor and was now sitting across from them in an identical chair. Ironclaw however, was instead leafing through paperwork for the Potter estate, looking bored with the proceedings and wholly uninterested.

“Well why didn’t you question her?”

“Because, Lord Black, she appeared to us through a fairy ring that links directly to the faerie capitol, meaning that she has most certainly been taken in by the Queen and King. I have no particular need to interrogate the princess of a diplomatic powerhouse unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Sirius turned to her, taking both her hands again and looking carefully into her eyes, Rosa smiled cheerily in response. “Rosa, when referring to your mum, did you mean this… queen of fairies?”

Rhiannon harumped, crossing her arms and regarding Sirius with a cool look. “Well, little man, technically her title is High Queen Una of Elphame, but yes that would be _somewhat_ correct.”

“And who are you calling me little, eh pipsqueak?”

“How dare-!”

Rosa sighed loudly. “Ree, please stop that, he is just very confused presently.” She then turned back to Sirius, squeezing his fingers assuredly. “Padfoot, I know you are very concerned, but you don’t have to worry about all the political stuff, adult mortals are incapable of living in the fae realm for any extensive period of time after all, so you won't have to worry about meeting my mum or papa.”

He frowned, looking carefully at her face. “I'm a tad more concerned that you were kidnapped by a foreign monarch than anything else Rosalie, and I’m sure I could manage a conversation with one of them regardless.” She blinked, taking in his words slowly.

“Rosalie?”

“Your full name-what, you didn’t know?”

“Well Aunt Petunia never said-”

“Petunia? How on earth did you ever cross paths with her?”

Rosa was even more confused, did Sirius not know where she had lived for the first eight years of her life? “Well... before I was taken I lived with her and Uncle Vernon, so I was rather bound to speak with her at some point, being under her roof an all.”

Very many things happened in the span of a few seconds, the first was Sirius very loudly shouting a very impolite word as Ironclaw nearly fell backwards in his chair, scrambling to write down what she had said and Sirius continued to rave on about someone he referred to as a ‘meddling old goat’. Feeling quite confused but very much enjoying the chaotic atmosphere she had unwittingly created, the newly dubbed Rosalie sat back in her chair and thought about her name.

“It’s rather lovely, don’t you think?” Thimble, who had so long ago teased her on the topic of names, piped up from her right shoulder. 

Rosa quickly nodded in agreement, “oh it’s just wonderful, Rosa is quite a pleasant name but adding the -lie to the end really ties it in a bow.”

Rhiannon sighed, “I do wish you found out sooner though, now we’ll have to change all the labeling on your things to match.”

“Oh that's quite alright, we can just stick the last three letters on at the end.”

“Well… I suppose you have a point.” Rosa hummed in agreement, watching as Sirius finished his rather long winded and very crass speech on the effects that ‘meddling old goats’ had on her life. Rosa wasn’t quite certain what the issue was, but decided not to ask, as both of the goblins as well as the man were quite busy feeling insulted and didn’t seem particularly inclined to stop in order to explain why.

Sitting back with a sigh, Rosa wondered how she managed to procrastinate getting her school supplies so thoroughly. Clearly, there was something ingrained in her that forced her to constantly make things overly complicated, that was the only reasonable answer, otherwise she would have to consider the possibility that trouble simply enjoyed tracking her down.

A knock on the door made everyone go silent, and Sirius got up from where he sat and went to open it, revealing a tall man with very lovely, very long white hair. He reminded her of what Una might look like if she were a man and a tad less attractive, and she watched him with curious eyes as he had a hushed conversation with Sirius.

“You-I’m sorry Black, do you truly expect me to believe-”

“Take a good look and tell me I'm mental then!”

The nameless man peered into the room, immediately locking eyes with her and sucking in a breath. Happily, she waved at him, smiling in a way she hoped was pleasant. It was best to always greet people with a smile, she had found, as they all seemed to treat her very nicely if she did so. The man slowly waved in return, his face betraying a small bit of shock as he turned back to Sirius and whispered furiously with him. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Rosa sat back with a huff, annoyed that her first trip into the wizarding world was becoming so unbelievably dull.

“Ironclaw?” The goblin stopped whatever it was he was doing and looked up to her questioningly. “Is there really anything I need to know? I need to go buy things for school at some point you know, and mum said to be back in time for supper.”

Sirius whipped around, pulling the white haired man in by his collar. “Not quite so fast Rosa, we need to sort out a very nasty political scandal that appears to be brewing. After that I can help you shop, I promise.” Sitting the poor man next to her, Sirius turned back to her accounts manager and began asking questions about her birth parents’ wills, for some reason. Twiddling her thumbs for a moment, Rosa looked at the white haired man very carefully, noticing how his magic was very cool and composed around his body despite the stressing atmosphere. He peered down at her as well, seemingly searching her face before looking away again. Thimble snickered, making the man’s eyes snap towards her again, finally seeming to register the two fairies on her shoulders.

“I don’t suppose your companions would be willing to give statements about your time in this ‘fae realm’... would they?” She pursed her lips, watching from the corner of her eyes as Rhiannon scoffed indignantly.

“Well… humans can’t exactly go there unless they’re taken, so I suppose it is rather pointless to try and make an announcement about it. I’m Rosalie by the way! Though I didn’t actually know that till a little while ago, oddly enough.”

The man smiled slightly, holding out a large hand for her to shake. “Lucius Malfoy, are you aware of your middle name as well?”

She took his hand, shaking it firmly with a pleased smile. “Another one? Goodness, I feel like three is far too many.”

Lucius laughed outright at that, retracting his hand as he did. “Yes, Rosalie Euphemia Potter I believe, it isn’t actually the most obnoxious name I’ve heard before sadly, not by a rather wide margin.”

She adjusted her posture, smiling up at Lucius. He seemed to be a rather nice fellow, perhaps the stony expression was just for show. “What would be the most obnoxious one you know then? You seem to have one in mind.”

He got a rather amused glint to his eyes, leaning down as if sharing a secret. “There is a rather obnoxious man on the wizengamot with three middle names. He is actually the headmaster of Hogwarts, perhaps you have read the name Dumbledore somewhere?”

She thought back for a moment, contemplating her school letter, which was the only thing that would ever have a headmaster's name on it, she thought. “I don't believe I have, no.”

As Sirius rushed to finish whatever it was he seemed intent on doing, Lucius and her talked about inconsequential things like Elphame and her adopted parents, though he seemed to be wanting far more information than ‘it is very tall and very lovely’ or ‘the sun is a delight to have during tea’, but she thought all the topics he asked about like natural resources or politics were rather dull, as Elphame had everything it needed and there was just the monarch, who would there be to talk politics with besides Una? Very few fae were interested in such exploits, and she told him such.

“But surely there is some sort of counsel-like muggle parliament?” She shook her head, enjoying how Lucius grew more and more perplexed as the conversation went on. He was a man severely lacking in emotional expression, in her personal opinion.

“Why would there need to be a parlament?”

“To make laws predominantly, or perhaps even just to govern the people. They represent the electorate-” she waved him off, kicking her legs harder in her chair as the conversation began to bore her. “That's awfully silly, why would you need to make laws?”

“Well, how would you go about stopping people from doing bad things?”

“Why would a fae want to do bad things?” 

Lucius let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face tiredly. “You cannot have society without a body of people to lead it. Even in a monarchy there are advisors and parliament and all sorts of politically inclined people.”

She tilted her head, watching as his magic swirled angrily through the air. “Mr. Lucius, you are aware that fae are immortal, yes? Why would a million year old trickster fae need to be told to cause harmless trouble when she already has been doing so for a million years? Why would a sprite need to be told to pollinate the forest if that is all they have ever done for the entirety of time? Why would a queen need to govern her people if they already govern themselves? You have to understand sir, that humans are very flawed and _very_ immature. They love to cause trouble for no other reason than they are able, and they very clearly _do_ need to be babysat by other humans, but fae are far more mature than humans ever hope to be, and can take care of things rather well on their own.”

All conversation had ceased while she spoke, Sirius gaping like a fish while Lucius seemed to finally realize that the little lost girl in front of him had been off in a whole other world while lost to theirs, and was also taking care of things rather well on her own. Glancing back to Ironclaw, Rosa asked once more if there was really anything that she needed to know till she went shopping.

The goblin sighed, handing off a slew of paperwork to Sirius as he did. “I'm sure your godfather could explain anything to you if necessary.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She turned then to her godfather, who was watching her with a critical eye as he gathered everything into his arms. “Padfoot, I would like very much to get my things now, and if you would like to join me you are more than welcome to do so.”

“-If I may interrupt.” Lucius also stood, his hand tightening around the head of his cane. “It may be best for you to exercise… discretion when roaming about Diagon Alley.”

 _Diagonally?_ Rosa squinted at the man, trying to figure out if she had misheard him. “That is an awfully odd name for a street.”

Sirius sighed, taking a stick of some kind out of his robe pocket and pointing it towards a paper weight on the desk. “Alright, I’ll explain that on the way as well.” There was a flash of light, and the paperweight was turned into a very large hat that was then set carefully onto her head. Rhiannon and Thimble squealed, darting underneath it and giggling excitedly. Adjusting the brim, Rosa stood as well, taking Sirius’ hand as he led her out the door, Lucius hot on their heels.

* * *

“That wand seems to suit you well Mr. Malfoy. Chestnut and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches and very swishy.” Draco looked down at his new wand, hands running over the odd wood contemplatively. Chestnut was very dark, almost black wood, and had a hardness that was difficult to beat. It was embellished with a plain silver cuff between where the handle ended and the shaft began, and there was a certain grace to it that made him a tad intimidated. The wand itself appeared like something that his father would wield, sturdy and unyielding in the face of any adversary, and he felt both honored to be chosen by it and anxious at the large shoes he was being forced to fill. 

Hermione was listing off all the chestnut’s properties, going on about differing wand cores or some other such tosh. He was far more intrigued with the design of the wand than the makeup, as it was quite oddly constructed, seeming to stay quite solid around the handle, and then suddenly split into two pieces, which circled each other and created a gap between them, before reconnecting again and straightening out. It was very peculiar.

“Sir, how did this wand manage to make this shape?” Pointing towards the break and curling design of the wood, Draco awaited an answer that, apparently, Ollivander didn’t have.

“I am afraid that that particular wand was made by my father, and as I was not currently alive when he did it, I haven't a clue. Now madam, that would be fourteen galleons.” Scowling at the unhelpful man, Draco looked to Hermione, who seemed to have just realized what an odd wand he had and was now very closely examining it.

“I wonder if the core is in the handle of the wand, and the magic swirls through the two breaks before reconnecting? Maybe there was a reason for doing something like that.”

“Yes well, it’s not like we’ll know now.” He frowned, trying to not look too upset, as while he was happy for a wand, he was annoyed that the mystery was seemingly cursed to be left unsolved.

“Oh tosh. Maybe we could-”

“Come along children, I'd say we are all in need of some nice, warm tea.” His mother cut Hermione off, and the both of them dutifully followed after her, leaving the shop with their nice new wands tucked into their wand holsters, ready to be used the second they got the chance. Draco was sure that once they got home, Hermione would goad him into trying out a few of the first year spells, and he would no doubt jump on the chance.

Weaving through the crowd, his mother led them over to a quaint little tea shop called Rosa Lee Teabag, which proudly displayed all sorts of mouthwatering confections in the window. Upon entrance, the three belined to a tucked away little booth overlooking the street, sitting in such a way that Draco was able to people watch as Hermione looked around the shop and chattered on and on about the incredible skills of wandmakers and the complex nature of wands. 

Narcissa listened to the girl’s excited ramblings, diligently nodding as she waved a waitress over. “Well, you could certainly look into the prospect of becoming a wand maker if you are that interested in the practice, I'm sure Ollivander would apprentice you.”

The girl wrinkled her nose, appearing strongly against the prospect. “As fascinating as the study is, I have other plans for my adulthood.” His mother laughed, mumbling something about brilliant little girls before turning her attention to the flustered waitress that had been standing next to the table patently. 

“We’ll all have a cuppa dear, and I’ll have a sugar free kouign-amann.” She waited for the girl to finish mentally panicking before turning to the two children and adopting a mothering expression. “The both of you can have a pastry if you’d like, though we will be eating lunch in a couple of hours, so please pick something small.”

It was a pleasant tea time, all things considered, and as Draco nibbled his baklava, he watched people pass by the large open window. A familiar face caught his eye, and Draco furrowed his brow as his father rushed hurriedly down the road. Catching the man’s gaze, Draco waved cautiously as Lucius practically stormed into the tea shop, clearly frazzled and calmly panicked. His mother stood from her seat, face awash with worry as he grasped her arm.

“Lucius? What on earth-”

“We need to talk, right now. Children, _behave.”_ With those passing words, his parents practically _sprinted_ from the table, huddling together in a quiet corner and sharing a hushed conversation. Hermione appeared incredibly annoyed that she was being left out of whatever was going on, and seemed tempted to try and eavesdrop. Draco rolled his eyes at her clearly curious expression, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “They’ll tell us what's going on if it's any of our business, you know.”

She pursed her lips, still staring at the couple with narrowed eyes. “I know that! It’s just that they're being so secretive about it that you can’t help but wonder what they’re up to. Do you reckon Lord Black in in trouble?” Draco shook his head, looking back out the window again. There were few things that the two of them so aggressively disagreed on besides quidditch and etiquette, but this was another instance where he simply refused to listen to her argument. There were plenty of things that parents kept from their children for seemingly no good reason, and there always ends up being a _very_ good reason for the secrecy. Draco became far less interested in trying to figure out his parents’ secrets when he was seven, when-after an incredible amount of whining on his part-his father had shamefully admitted what the tattoo on his left arm was. After that, he decided firmly that there was no sense bothering with the affairs of adults, as they were oftentimes either shameful, dangerous, or both.

Still though, Hermione continued to watch the pair with eagle eyes, seemingly attempting to read their lips and-going off her rather constipated expression-failing rather spectacularly at it. Rolling his eyes, Draco finished off his baklava and sipped his tea, focusing back onto the crowd outside of the window just as a familiar face passed by. Squinting, he observed how a frazzled Sirius Black led a girl a bit shorter than Hermione through the streets, speaking hurriedly as he did. The girl was wearing a very large witch’s hat atop her head, which itself was so big that it completely shaded her face. Obscuring her features even more was a veil hanging off the hat, covering the entirety of her face and making it impossible for him to identify anything about her.

“Strange…”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Look there.” Pointing, he watched as his honorary Uncle and the little girl turned a corner and disappeared from sight, just as Hermione’s head snapped around to see what he was looking at.

“What? I don’t see anything.”

He sighed, sitting back and staring at where the pair had run off to. It was very, _very_ unlikely that his uncle would ever attempt to kidnap a child, considering what had happened to his goddaughter, so it was doubtful that that was what was going on, but it was still very suspect considering that the girl’s features were obscured.

He sat for a moment, before his eyes bulged, and he choked on his tea. _No! Certainly not… but it isn't impossible..._ It would certainly make sense, and would explain his father’s stress and why the girl was hiding her face from the public. But still, it was absolutely absurd-just to imagine that Rosa Potter had not only been found somehow, but only a month from the start of the school year-it was far too perfect to be true.

“Draco? What is it? Tell me!”

“Just some woman with a horrid hat on. Don't get your knickers in a twist.” Hermione huffed, turning back to her scone and munching on it angrily. He looked back out the window, searching for any further sign of the pair, and finding none.

“Come now children, we’re finished here.” At his father’s prompting, they quickly stood, getting rushed out the door by a face stony-faced Lucius and a deeply concerned Narcissa. Draco didn’t dare question it, too focused on all the possibilities now presented to him. There was so much that he didn’t know now, and if that veiled girl really was Rosa Potter, then his time in Hogwarts was going to get far, _far_ more interesting.

* * *

Diagon Alley, as Sirius repeatedly corrected her on, was a very exciting place, with ‘witches’ and ‘wizards’ all milling about and making noise, going about their daily duties with an air of not only grace but chaos. As a few beautiful ladies in full white outfits whirled by, their magic floating around in a tantalizing display, a burly man set down a massive crate, which was shaking from the ferocity of what was inside. Just as this happened, an old woman’s hat squawked like a bird, revealing what appeared to be a living vulture poised on top of it. She squinted at the peculiar creature, finding that its magic was very different from what a bird’s magic usually was, and matched the woman’s magic much better. Perhaps it was her familiar? Sirius had said something about familiars existing.

The man tugged her further though the street, clutching her hand like a lifeline, as if she would float away if he let go. Speeding up a smidge, Rosa glanced all around the place in an effort to figure out where each little thing could be. 

“We can go to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary for your potions supplies, but might need to make a detour into Spyglass Sanctuary for the telescope-”

“Oh I already have all that, I just need a cauldron, the uniform, and a wand.” He nodded, muttering something as he attempted to come up with a workable plan. Lucius had cut off from them quite soon after helping her buy the first year books, which had all been just as nasty and dead as she expected. Sirius had taken them from her stiff arms and shrunk them to fit in his own pockets though, so she didn’t have to worry about such nastiness as she went about and took in all the sights. Really, if she had known magical humans were this fun, she would have wanted to come back ages before! The only real difference between this ‘Diagon Alley’ and the various markets in Elphame was that everyone was the same size and vague shape, and were all buying much less exotic-looking things from a much smaller selection. Either way, she found it all just as fun and exciting, especially as she was going quite unnoticed.

“Alright Ros-ah, um… alright fawn, this is the plan.” Sirius crouched down, looking vaguely to the right of her nose though the opaque veil. “I'll go get your cauldron while you go get a wand from Ollivanders, and then we can both go and get you measured for a uniform. And then we can go buy some shoes-”

“Absolutely not.” Her voice was firm and hard, and he reared back with surprise. “You’ll sooner get me to dance with nothing but a pair of mittens on through a frozen tundra than into any pair of shoes. I simply refuse to wear them and you can't make me.” 

For a moment, she thought that Sirius would argue, but he instead burst out laughing and pat her shoulder. “That's alright then luv, though the Hogwarts professors might be a bit stricter than I am.” She sighed with relief, following along as Sirius led her towards a store absolutely brimming with strange magic. She took in the sight with wide eyes, knowing for a fact that this could be nothing but this mysterious wand shop Sirius had eluded to. He pushed her up the stairs, making her promise to stay there till he came back. She agreed well enough, knowing that she would be wholly unable to leave the fascinating little magic hub anyway, even if he came back and wanted to move along with their journey. 

Practically skipping into the small shop, Rosa yanked the hat off her head and started darting around, taking in all the little wonders around her. Unlike the majority of wood that she had come across, the wood that made up the wands was positively _brimming_ with magic, so much so that she believed quite firmly that each stick of wood in that shop was just as alive as the trees in her forest. How that was possible she hadn’t a clue, but it was incredible and absolutely inspiring, and for several minutes all she could do was look about the place in wonder.

“My my… I haven’t seen one of your kind before. Is that where you ran off to then, Rosa Potter? Off to the fae realm?” She turned, watching an old man creep from the shadows, his magic was mostly that of a wizard, but there was a familiar swirl-or perhaps just a slight tint-that altered all of who he was. She couldn’t help but gasp, taken aback by the peculiar creature.

“You-you have fae blood! Incredible!” In an instant she was up against the counter, peering up at him with wide eyes. She had never even considered it possible, for a fae and a human to reproduce, they were simply too different. 

He raised both eyebrows in surprise. “You can tell? My my… I had believed that the blood had long since diluted to the point of obsoleteness. One of my distant ancestors was a fae, yes, though I do not know from when they merged with the bloodline.” 

Rosa contemplated that admission, it was relatively agreed upon that fae started distancing themselves further and further from humans as they started to become more and more civilized around the world, fleeing back home as societies in their area became more and more powerful and more scientifically inclined. In Britain, the slow shift was made around three hundred years after Morgana ascended the throne of Avalon, so it was possible that anytime before that was most likely when the union was forged. She told the man this, and watched as his eyes lit up.

“Morgana you say? Not much is known about her here, no no not much at all. So Avalon truly exists, and she rules it? Peculiar, most peculiar.” He hummed contemplatively, and Rosa tried very hard not to make a nasty face. Morgana was extremely important, not only to fae but to magical humans as well, how could they have so little knowledge of her?

They stood quietly for a moment, before Ollivander leapt into action. “Right then! A wand for you, Rosa Potter? That I can do, most certainly.” The man ran off to the back of the store, leaving her there for only a moment before he was back again, carrying with him boxes upon boxes piled high in his arms. Setting them all down in a heap on the counter, he reached for the nearest and took off the lid, exposing a pretty little wand carved with daisies. “Hornbeam and unicorn hair, nine inches and quite bendy. Go on, give it a little flick.”

Reaching out, Rosa just barely got her fingers wrapped around the shaft before it was yanked away, mutterings of ‘oh goodness no’ and ‘certainly not’ following quickly after. The old man set the wand back into its box and the box far out of reach, and then grabbed for another. “Alright, how about this one. Rowan wood and unicorn tail, nine and a quarter inches.” She managed to get a handle on that one, but upon flicking it found a great deal of the store suddenly in a great deal of disarray. The man tisked, taking the wand gingerly as he waved his own, the store fixing itself as he did.

“I suppose unicorn tail is simply not right for you, my dear, though the rowan seemed amicable enough… hm. Lets try again, shall we?”

They tried a great number of wands, and each one very firmly refused her, be it through aggression or meek cowardice, as they either lept from her hands or attempted to propel themselves away with explosions. A good majority showed their displeasure through a thorough destroying of the store, much to her companion’s delight and her secret embarrassment. Eventually though, a wand seemed to settle for her, gleaming like caramel and glowing happily.

Ollivander sighed with relief, sitting back with surprise. “Holy and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Quite a peculiar wand, I would say, but-”

“I don't want it.”

He stopped, gazing at her with clear confusion. “Pardon?”

“I don't like it, get me another please.”

She could tell that the core was not the issue, as it was practically screaming out for her to use it (and she truly wished to do so), but the wood-by the great goddess Danu the wood was _wretched._ She despised the feeling of it in her hands and wished horribly that it was gone. Setting the offending thing onto the counter, she wiped her hand of the feeling and looked again at the other wands that had been discarded. “Can I please have a different wood? Please sir, that wood is horrible but I can tell the core is just fine. Please get me a different wand wood sir. _Please.”_

Ollivander held up two hands cautiously, taking the wand from where she had dropped it onto the counter. “Worry not my dear, I would be happy to change the wood for you. As I told another young lady not an hour ago, the wand may choose the witch, but the witch may choose if the wand is also a proper fit, and it is very clear to me that this wood is not one you can work with. Simple as that.” He waved his own wand, mumbling a complex string of words that she strangely could not understand, and a blazingly red feather came zipping out of the offending wood, slipping through an invisible crack as if there was no issue of size and structure to it. Rosa watched for a moment, entranced by the very particular and very familiar shade of red, before Ollivander plucked the feather out of the air and set it aside in a small container.

“Now, the rowan still seemed to rather like you, though I am sure there is something missing, perhaps we can combine woods together… hm, yes yes, that just might work.”

He set in front of her not only a fresh piece of rowan wood-one untouched by carving tools or other implements, but also a variety of other woods, all pulsing with their own unique magic, and requested that she hold each one and tell him what she felt. For most, nothing was the answer, but quite a few either hummed happily or shocked her in clear anger. Along with the rowan, two other woods warmed and shook, and those three were then set in front of her to choose her two favorites.

“Now, usually I would simply try to combine the three, but with us here are rowan, ebony, and vine. The issue is that, quite simply, rowan does not work well with vine, and refuses rather plainly to produce magic with it. I ask that you make your own personal decision with the pairings, as you can only have either rowan and ebony, or ebony and vine.”

She hemmed and hawed over the decision, touching one wood then another, then two together and then separately again. She almost wished that she could have two wands, but knew that the phoenix feather could not be split in two, and felt that it was the only core she would ever want to have. Reaching out again, she held both rowan and ebony in her hand, pointing the two contrasting woods as if they were a wand, pushing a slight amount of her own magic into the wood and easily connecting with both. It was strange for her to connect with a living creature that didn’t have roots, but it was clear to her that the woods were both living and had personalities of their own, just as her forest did. They also wanted to be with her a great deal, and she was loath to leave them there in the delightful little store now that they were hers in any way that mattered.

Sighing lightly, she set both down on the counter, eying the vine wood with minimal regret. “I want these two.”

Ollivander clapped happily, gathering up all three woods and carrying them off. “Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!” Setting the vine wood away, he came back for the phoenix feather. “Give me just a moment my dear to situate the two woods together, do you have any particular preferences for carvings or shape?” 

She glanced at the pitch black ebony wood and then the much paler rowan, and then she thought of the vine wood and let out a frustrated huff. “Could you carve the rowan with vines?”

He hummed for a moment, twirling the slice of wood between his hands. Reaching towards the ebony and then the phoenix feather, he gathered it all up in his arms. “I can certainly think of something my dear. Wait right here now, this has never taken me longer than an hour-the compatibility of wood and core is always what takes the most time, decoration and assembly is of no matter.” And with that he was gone, nearly skipping with excitement as he disappeared into what she could only assume was a workshop.

Sighing slightly, Rosa settled down in a small seat and stared blankly into the store, glancing around at the lingering evidence of her wand searching. It had been quite fun to be in the wizarding world, as she had learned it was called, but still felt that her time was best spent among her forest and her family. Sure, Sirius was revealing himself to be perhaps her only true tie to the wizarding world, and she felt that it would be very difficult to leave him on his lonesome that evening.

“Rosa, do you think it would be too terrible to stay a few days? I'm sure the queen wouldn’t mind, and that Sirius fellow seemed to rather enjoy our company.” Thimble rested on her knee, playing with the lace of her witch’s hat that was now settled down in her lap. Rosa bussied her hands by wearing down at the rim, biting her lip in thought. She did rather enjoy Sirius’ company as well, and he had clearly been looking for her over the past two years, which made her feel awfully guilty for not coming back sooner-she certainly would have returned if she had known there was anyone who actually wanted her to!

“I would sure like to keep in contact with Sirius, but I quite terribly want to go home today. We only came to shop after all, not all this other stuff that seems intent on happening.” She groaned, burying her face in the large hat and stifling a scream. Maybe it was all the furniture made of corpses, or perhaps it was the talk of heiresses or wizengamots or even that wretched, Danu-be-damned holly wood, but she was feeling completely and utterly fed up with the wizarding world presently.

The bell chimed over the door, and she peered up to watch as Sirius came stumbling in, hands holding an assortment of wrapped packages and a single, hand held cauldron. He caught her eye, and with another clumsy few steps, he dumped the pile of things onto the chair next to her. Grunting, he stood, gesturing to the various packages and grinning broadly. “Happy birthday!”

She stared at him with concern, before glancing back down at the parcels. “Padfoot… my birthday is in July.”

He sighed, rooting through the mess and pulling out her cauldron, setting it away from the rest. “I know that, but I haven't gotten you a birthday present since your first birthday, so I felt that it was necessary to get caught up.”

She made an ‘ohh’ noise, quickly counting and finding that there was, in fact, ten parcels. “You didn’t have to-”

“Nonsense! Now, have you got your wand? We can leave now and go get some ice cream to eat while you open them, or-”

“Ollivander is making my wand at the moment, and said that it would take about an hour, so I can just open them here I reckon.” 

He blinked at her words, frowning in thought as he settled down on the last remaining chair. “Making it? Why would he have to do that?”

Rosa sighed, picking at the wrapping of the nearest parcel. “The wood wasn’t quite right, so he’s swapping it out for a better one.” She involuntarily shivered at the thought of the holly, how incredibly lecherous and invasive it had felt. She never wanted to feel that way ever again.

Sirius nodded in understanding. “My first wand had never felt quite right because of that, but my mother refused to let me change it to a preferable one, so I was stuck with a semi-reliable wand till sixth year.” They sat in silence for a moment, before he coughed awkwardly and motioned towards the yet unopened parcels. “Go on then, open ‘em up.”

She rather enjoyed sitting there opening up her late birthday presents, finding that they were an odd mix of pretty-looking jewelry and broom-related supplies. She had yet to ever even touch a magical broom, and was rather befuddled with being suddenly saddled with one, along with polish, cleaning supplies, and what Sirius identified as keepers gloves, and an entire set of bludgers, quaffles, and the funny little golden snitch.

“Your father was a natural at quidditch, so I'm sure you will be too.” Sirius seemed so sure of himself in that, that she pleasantly agreed and set all the ‘quidditch’ things gently into their own pile, making a note to figure out what quidditch even _was._

“It's all very lovely, thank you.” She fingered a small charm bracelet, on it which held charms of a deer’s head, two wolves in separate poses, a lily flower, and a rose. Sirius had explained that each charm had a meaning, and that he would explain each one if she gave him the time to do so. Rosa had the feeling that he was concerned she would slip away and disappear again (which, truly, was her intention), and made the guilt even greater. Really, it would be so much easier if she could just visit him whenever she liked, but trekking through Gringotts and into Diagon Alley, and then further and all the way to wherever he lived, sounded like not only a headache but a great deal riskier than this little expedition had been.

Sirius was about to reply, before the sound of shuffling made them both turn to the shadowy back of the store, where Ollivander was emerging from, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Leaping to her feet, Rosa mauvered around the mountain of presents and towards the counter, hearing Sirius do the same at a much slower pace.

“Is it done?” Jumping on the balls of her feet, Rosa watched with irrepressible excitement as Ollivander presented her with the wand. “It was a joy to make Miss. Potter, thank you for the challenge you’ve brought to me. Rowan and ebony wood with a phoenix feather core, twelve inches and strangely whippy for a hardwood. Truly Miss. Potter, this wand is one of the oddest if most brilliant wands I’ve ever had the joy to make. I know you will use it well.”

Rosa rather thought that it was made in her likeness, though that could be said with a great deal of confidence since it likely had been. The ebony wood made up the shaft, and was in a simple tube-like shape, simple but ornate carvings of what she could clearly make out as runes maring its surface. Each end was curved off and round, with the thing moving slowly to a thinner point further from what she supposed was the grip-side. The entire thing was perfectly smooth and uniform, shined to perfection and simple elegance. The rowan wood, instead of being carved with vines as she had asked, had been carved into the _shape_ a vine itself, and then melded into the ebony in such a way that it seemed to be wrapping around the black wood, creating the optical illusion of a honest to Danu vine wrapped around her wand. Curled off the handle, she noticed, was a little loop where the ‘vine’ became something akin to a hook, that she would be able to knot a keychain to, and Rosa instantly started thinking of what to put there.

Reaching out, she grasped her beautiful, lovely wand in her right hand, and felt instantly that it was perfect. Ollivander clapped his hands gleefully, reaching behind the desk to gather up a wand box for her to carry it in. “That’ll be ten gallions due to the two woods Miss. Potter, it was a joy to work with you today.”

Sirius paid as she gathered up the presents, where he then shrank them down to fit into a little pouch he had also bought. Turning to thank Ollivander one last time, she found him holding out the wretched piece of holly that had once housed her wand’s core. “Take it if you like Miss Potter, I believe that it chose you for a reason.” 

For a moment, she even considered it, that wretched little stick of wood that had instantly filled her with pain and anguish. What was the harm in just taking the stick? She could throw it off a balcony at any time if it displeased her.

But of course, what was the point in taking it if she despised even the thought of touching the wretched thing?

“No thank you, I think I'll do rather well in life if I chose things for myself.”

With that, she gave Ollivander one final thank you, and donned her veiled hat, her small companions zipping underneath just as Sirius held the door open for her. Ollivander watched her go, happy little smile on his face as the door slammed shut with a resounding clanking of the bell.

“Well done Miss. Potter. Well done indeed.”

* * *

The fitting for her school uniform had gone rather well, all things considered, though Rosa felt that the ladies had been acting very uppity about her not wearing shoes. Honestly, her feet were pristine and clean, as she had long since learned how to keep dirt from them, she wasn’t an animal after all. She was a fae, they were completely different.

“Padfoot, you said that both of my birth parents were magical, right? That’s why I’m a rich heiress, right?” He nodded distractically, looking around for a moment before shepherding her towards a pleasant little shop called Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. “So that means they probably wouldn’t go driving around anywhere in a car?”

“Nope! I’m not quite positive Lily even had a license, despite being muggleborn.”

Rosa nodded, she had often wondered about how her birth parents had died, crushed to death in that car crash. Perhaps if it was a magical car crash, it could somehow explain how the soul shard had ended up in her scar? “What about her husband, what was it-James?”

“Yes, you fath-your birth father James. He didn’t have a license either. Sorry-why is this important?”

“Well it's just that Aunt Petunia said they died in a car crash, but never really said much other than that. If they were magical, I would have thought they would use brooms or some other witchy sort.”

Sirius had a very particular look on his face, and quickly led her over to a quiet corner of the Parlor. Settling them down, he lifted the veil of her hat a little bit and looked at her closely. “Rosalie, your… your _birth_ parents were both great people that utterly adored you, and they would have been so, _so_ proud of you. You know that, right?” She nodded, slowly, watching as his gaze became more desperate. “Rosa... Lily and James did _not_ die in a car crash, they were killed by a very evil man, who was then killed by you.”

A single shriveled, dying, sickeningly red dandelion.

“How evil of a man?” Her voice was quiet, her mind someplace else as he gained a strained expression. Fin’s voice came to her then, quiet and soothing and just as it had always been, coaxing her gently through the process of understanding life and evil and how life _made_ evil, and how evil was never simply spawned into being, how it had to fester-like a disease-in the hearts of those angry and beat down enough to let it stay there.

A single pristine, perfectly healthy, elegantly red dandelion.

“A _very_ evil man, so evil that people dare not speak his name, only calling him you-know-who or he-who-must-not-be-named. I found you there, after you had killed him. Your scar-it… it had been much bigger, and much worse. He had left his mark on you, Rosa.”

A single shriveled, dying, sickeningly red rose.

“I had cleaned you up best I could, though at the time I had worried that the scar would be incredibly obvious-luckily it has faded rather significantly since then. Sure it's still significant but-Rosa? Rosa, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It's just that-that you deserve to know what had happened to them. Rosa?”

A single pristine, perfectly healthy, elegantly red rose.

“Sirius, I need to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super important note: Please read!
> 
> SOOOooo... after finishing all of my planning of first year, I decided that this fic will become obnoxiously long if I leave each year in one book, so I have decided to make this a series and have one year per book! Of course, that means that I have put an official cap on the amount of chapters for this book, as 1st year has been officially planned out in its entirety and just needs to be written at this point, so that is all good to go. The only thing is that I'm starting to wonder if I should change the title to something that would work better for a series fanfic (like Rosa Potter and the Fairy Queen or something equally cheesy? Idk) either way, the series would still be called Earthly Heavens if I do decide to do that, but the thing is that I'm not quite sure what to call this particular book in the series. What I'm getting at here is that I'm open to and requesting suggestions, even if the suggestion is "booo!!! Keep the title the way it is!!!" In the very least I want to add a little (year 1) to the title, but that's the bare minimum. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you all are doing well!!
> 
> Analisis (hella long, just like the chapter (double rip)):  
> Goblin Personality: In the canon, goblins aren't very touched on, and in fics they are often given very similar personality and mannerisms despite being intelligent creatures capable of society. This is why I had Ironclaw be calmer, and even occasionally nervous, as it contrasted Goldtooth, who I made the typical characterization, or Ragnuk, who was more analytical and militarily (as he should).
> 
> Draco's wand wood: I know didn't say much about Draco's wand, so I'll copy paste what was said about chestnut wood along with the same link as always: This is a most curious, multi-faceted wood, which varies greatly in its character depending on the wand core, and takes a great deal of colour from the personality that possesses it. The wand of chestnut is attracted to witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers. However, when paired with dragon heartstring, it may find its best match among those who are overfond of luxury and material things, and less scrupulous than they should be about how they are obtained. Conversely, three successive heads of the Wizengamot have possessed chestnut and unicorn wands, for this combination shows a predilection for those concerned with all manner of justice. https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/wand-woods
> 
> Rosa's wand woods:  
> Ebony: This jet-black wand wood has is highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.  
> Rowan: Rowan wood has always been much-favoured for wands, because it is reputed to be more protective than any other, and renders all manner of defensive charms especially strong and difficult to break. It is said that no dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand, and I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world. Rowan is most happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted, but this reputation for virtue ought not to fool anyone – these wands are the equal of any, often the better, and frequently outperform others in duels.  
> (almost) Vine: The druids considered anything with a woody stem as a tree, and vine makes wands of such a special nature that I have been happy to continue their ancient tradition. Vine wands are among the less common types, and I have been intrigued to notice that their owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, and I have found them more sensitive than any other when it comes to instantly detecting a prospective match.
> 
> About the Holly: In a lot of fics, I find that what authors make the issue of Harry's wand in the core, but since this will (eventually) be a Tomarry fic, I wanted to keep their wands as brother (sibling?) wands. Holly is more inclined towards people with anger issues, and will want a welder that is about to go on a dangerous and arduous quest. Obviously, Rosa is not angry and sees no need in going on a dangerous quest, so I believe she would despise the wood (it might also be because of Dumbledore's meddling)


End file.
